288<V 


ANYTHING  ONCE 


.02     

ANGELES 


He  drank  deeply,  then  struggled  to  a  sitting  posture,  his   face 
whitening  beneath  its  tan. 


ANYTHING   ONCE 


BY 

DOUGLAS   GRANT 

AUTHOR  OF 
"THE  SINGLE  TRACK,"  "BOOTY,"  "THE  FIFTH  ACE,"  ETC. 


Frontispiece  by 
PAUL  STAHR 


NEW  YORK 
W.  J.  WATT  &  COMPANT 

PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT,  igao,  »T 
W.  J.  WATT  &  COMPANY 


PRIM  or 

BRAUNWORTH   ft   OO> 

BOOK   MANUFACTURERS 

BROOKLYN,  N.  V. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTEK  PAGE 

I.    A  ROADSIDE  MEETING i 

II.    PARTNERS 17 

III.  THE  VENDOR  OF  EVERYTHING      ...  41 

IV.  UNDER  THE  BIG  TOP 55 

V.  CONCERNING  AN  OMELET       ....  69 

VI.    THE  RED  NOTE-BOOK 83 

VII.    REVELATIONS 99 

VIII.    JOURNEY'S  END 118 

DC.    THE  LONG,  LONG  TRAIL 138 


2129902 


ANYTHING  ONCE 


ANYTHING   ONCE 


CHAPTER  I 

A  ROADSIDE  MEETING 

THE  white  dust,  which  lay  thick  upon 
the  wide  road  between  rolling  fields  of 
ripened  grain,  rose  in  little  spirals  from  be- 
neath the  heavy  feet  of  the  plodding  farm- 
horses  drawing  the  empty  hay-wagon,  and 
had  scarcely  settled  again  upon  the  browning 
goldenrod  and  fuzzy  milkweed  which  bor- 
dered the  rail  fences  on  either  side  when  Ebb 
Fischel's  itinerant  butcher-jitney  rattled  past, 
Ebb  Fischers  eyes  were  usually  as  sharp  as 
the  bargains  he  drove,  but  the  dust  must  have 
obscured  his  vision.  Otherwise  he  would  have 
seen  the  man  lying  motionless  beside  the  road, 


2  ANYTHING  ONCE 

with  his  cap  in  the  ditch  and  the  pitiless  sun 
of  harvest-time  caking  the  blood  which  had 
streamed  from  an  ugly  cut  upon  his  temple. 

But  the  meat-cart  jolted  on  and  out  of  sight, 
and  for  a  long  time  nothing  disturbed  the 
stillness  except  the  distant  whirring  of  a 
reaper  and  nearer  buzzing  of  a  fat,  inquisitive 
bluebottle  fly,  which  paused  to  see  what  this 
strange  thing  might  be,  and  then  zoomed  off 
excitedly  to  tell  his  associates. 

At  length  there  came  a  dry  rustling  in  the 
tall  standing  wheat  in  the  field  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  road,  and  a  head  and  shoulders 
appeared  above  the  topmost  fence-rail.  It 
was  a  small  head  covered  with  tow-colored 
hair,  which  had  been  slicked  back  and 
braided  so  tightly  that  the  short,  meager  cue 
curled  outward  and  up  in  a  crescent,  as  though 
it  were  wired,  and  the  shoulders  beneath  the 
coarse  blue-and-white  striped  cotton  gown 
were  thin  and  peaked. 

The  girl  darted  a  swift,  furtive  glance  up 
and  down  the  road,  and  suddenly  thrust  a 
bundle  tied  in  a  greasy  apron  between  the 
rails,  letting  it  fall  in  the  high,  dusty  weeds 


A  ROADSIDE  MEETING          3 

by  the  roadside.  Next  she  climbed  to  the 
top  of  the  fence,  and  for  a  moment  perched 
there,  displaying  a  slim  length  of  coarse  black 
stocking  above  clumping,  square-toed  shoes  at 
least  two  sizes  too  large  for  her. 

She  looked  like  a  very  forlorn,  feminine 
•Monte  Cristo  indeed,  as  she  scanned  the  world 
from  her  vantage-point,  and  yet  there  was  a 
look  of  quiet  satisfaction  and  achievement  in 
her  incongruously  dark  eyes  which  told  of  a 
momentous  object  accomplished. 

Then  all  at  once  they  stared  and  softened 
as  she  caught  sight  of  that  still  figure  lying 
across  the  road,  and  in  two  bounds  she  was 
beside  him  and  lifted  his  head  against  her 
sharp  knees.  She  noted  only  casually  that 
he  was  a  clean-shaven,  tanned  young  man  with 
brown  hair  bleached  by  the  sun  to  a  warm 
gold,  and  that  he  wore  shabby,  weather-beaten 
clothes. 

Had  she  realized  that  those  same  worn, 
faded  garments  bore  the  stamp  of  one  of  New 
York's  most  exclusive  tailors!  that  the  boots 
were  London-made,  and  the  golf-stockings 
which  met  the  corduroy  knickerbockers  came 


4  ANYTHING  ONCE 

from  one  of  Scotland's  famous  mills,  it  would 
have  meant  just  exactly  nothing  in  her  young 
life. 

Her  immediate  attention  was  concentrated 
upon  the  jagged  gash  which  ran  unpleasantly 
close  to  his  temple,  and  which  had  begun  to 
bleed  afresh  as  she  raised  his  head. 

The  girl  looked  about  her  again  and  saw 
that  a  short  distance  ahead  the  road  was  bi- 
sected by  a  bridge  of  planks  with  willows 
bordering  it  at  either  side.  She  pulled  at  the 
strings  which  held  a  blue  sunbonnet  dangling 
between  her  narrow  shoulder-blades,  re- 
garded the  sleazy  headgear  ruefully,  and  then 
spying  the  cap  in  the  ditch,  she  deposited  het 
burden  gently  upon  the  grass  once  more  and 
scrambled  over  to  investigate  her  find. 

The  cap  had  an  inner  lining  of  something 
which  seemed  to  be  like  rubber,  and  the  girl 
flew  off  down  the  road  to  return  with  her  im- 
provised bowl  filled  with  clear,  cold  spring 
water.  Dropping  on  her  knees  beside  the  un- 
conscious figure,  she  poured  the  contents  of 
the  cap  over  his  face  and  head. 

The  young  man  sputtered,  gasped,  moaned 


A  ROADSIDE  MEETING          5 

a  little,  and  opened  astonished  brown  eyes 
upon  her. 

"How — how  the  devil  did  you  come  here?" 
he  asked  ungallantly. 

"Over  the  fence."  Her  reply  was  laconic, 
but  it  bore  an  unmistakable  hint  that  further 
query  along  that  line  would  be  highly  un- 
welcome. "Just  you  lay  still  while  I  git  some 
more  water,  an'  I'll  tie  up  that  head  of  yourn." 

The  young  man's  hand  went  unsteadily  to 
his  aching  brow  and  came  away  brightly 
pink,  so  he  decided  to  take  this  uncomely 
vision's  advice,  and  remained  quiescent,  won- 
dering how  he  himself  had  come  to  be  there, 
and  what  had  happened  to  him. 

According  to  the  map,  he  had  surely  been 
on  the  right  road,  yet  it  had  as  assuredly  not 
looked  like  this  one;  the  other  had  been  a 
broad,  State  highway,  while  this 

He  closed  his  burning  eyes  to  shield  them 
from  the  glare  of  the  sun,  and  a  confused 
memory  returned  to  him  of  that  invitingly 
green,  shady  pasture  which  had  tempted  him 
as  a  short  cut  toward  the  next  village,  and 
of  something  which  thundered  down  upon 


6  ANYTHING  ONCE 

him  from  behind  and  lifted  him  into  chaos. 
Good  Lord,  and  he  had  only  six  days  left! 

"You'd  better  take  a  drink  of  this  first  an'  I 
kin  use  the  rest  on  your  head."  A  composed, 
practical  voice  advised  by  his  side,  and  he 
looked  up  gratefully  into  the  snub-nosed, 
freckled  face  of  his  benefactress  as  she  held 
the  brimming  cap  to  his  lips. 

He  drank  deeply,  then  struggled  to  a  sit- 
ting posture,  his  face  whitening  beneath  its 
tan  at  the  sudden  wrench  of  pain  which 
twisted  the  muscles  of  his  back. 

"Kin  you  hold  the  cap  steady?"  The  girl 
thrust  it  into  his  hands  without  waiting  for 
a  reply,  and,  sitting  down  with  her  back  to 
him,  calmly  turned  back  the  hem  of  her  gown 
and  tore  a  wide  strip  from  the  coarse  but  im- 
maculately white  cambric  petticoat  beneath. 

Dipping  it  into  the  water,  she  bandaged  his 
head  not  unskilfully,  and  then  rose. 

"There!  I  gotta  git  you  over  to  the  shade 
of  them  trees,  or  you'll  have  sunstroke.  Wait 
till  I  fetch  somethin'." 

She  ran  across  the  road  and  returned  with 
her  greasy  bundle  under  one  arm,  offering  the 


A  ROADSIDE  MEETING          7 

other  to  him  with  a  gesture  as  frank  as  it  was 
impersonal. 

"Lean  on  me,  an'  try  to  git  along — and 
please  kinder  hurry!" 

She  added  the  last  with  a  note  of  sudden 
urgency  in  her  tones  and  the  same  furtively 
darting  glance  with  which  she  had  swept  the 
road  from  the  fence-top,  but  the  young  man 
was  too  deeply  engrossed  with  his  painful 
effort  to  rise  to  observe  the  look,  although  her 
ghange  of  tone  aroused  his  curiosity.  Was 
this  scrawny  but  good-natured  kid  afraid  some 
of  her  people  would  catch  her  talking  to  a 
stranger  by  the  roadside? 

Somehow  he  managed  to  hobble,  with  her 
aid,  across  the  little  bridge  and  down  the  bank 
of  the  swiftly  racing  brook  at  its  farther  side 
to  a  nest  in  the  dense  thicket  of  willow-shoots 
which  completely  screened  them  from  the 
road. 

The  girl  eased  him  down  then  upon  the 
sward,  and,  seating  herself  beside  him,  un- 
rolled the  apron  she  had  carried. 

"It's  the  ham  that's  greased  it  all  up  like 
that,"  she  remarked.  "I'd  have  brought  a 


8  ANYTHING  ONCE 

pail,  only  I  didn't  want  to  take  any  more  'n 
I  had  to." 

The  young  man  gasped  with  astonishment 
as  the  contents  of  the  apron-bundle  were  ex- 
posed: a  whole  ham  glistening  with  the 
brown  sugar  in  which  it  had  been  baked,  a 
long  knife,  a  huge  loaf  of  bread,  and,  wrapped 
separately  in  a  piece  of  newspaper,  a  bar  of 
soap,  a  box  of  matches,  and  a  bit  of  broken 
comb. 

"When  there's  lots  of  them,  ham  sand- 
wiches, together  with  spring  water,  ain't  so 
bad,  an'  it's  near  noon,"  the  girl  observed,  be- 
ginning to  cut  the  loaf  into  meager  slices  with 
a  practised  hand.  "I  should  've  made  them 
thicker,  but  I  forgot." 

A  starving  gleam  had  come  into  the  young 
man's  eyes  at  the  sight  of  food,  but  he  paused 
with  the  sandwich  half-way  to  his  lips  to 
glance  keenly  at  his  companion. 

"You've  enough  here  for  an  army,"  he  de- 
clared. "Were  you  taking  it  to  men  working 
in  the  fields  somewhere?" 

"No,"  she  replied  without  hesitation,  but 
with  the  same  air  of  finality  with  which  she 


A  ROADSIDE  MEETING          9 

had  responded  to  his  first  question.  "You  can 
rest  easy  here  till  sundown,  when  the  men 
begin  to  come  in  from  the  harvesting  an'  then 
if  you  holler  real  loud  some  of  them  will 
maybe  stop  an'  give  you  a  lift  on  your  way. 
There's  a  railroad  about  four  miles  from  here, 
an'  the  slow  freight  goes  by  along  about  ten." 

The  slow  freight!  So  the  girl  thought  he 
was  a  tramp!  The  young  man  smiled,  and 
glanced  down  ruefully  at  his  shabby  attire. 
Well,  so  had  others  thought,  whom  he  had  en- 
countered in  his  journey. 

But  who  and  what  was  the  girl  herself? 
She  had  asked  no  questions  as  to  how  he  had 
come  to  the  condition  in  which  she  found  him, 
but  had  nursed  his  hurt,  brought  him  to  this 
cool  resting-place;  and  was  sharing  her  food 
with  him  as  unconcernedly  as  though  she  had 
known  him  all  her  life. 

That  quantity  of  provisions,  the  package  of 
humble  toilet  articles,  and  her  furtiveness  and 
haste  to  get  away  from  the  open  road  all 
pointed  to  one  fact — the  girl  was  running 
away.  But  from  whom  or  what?  She  had 
taken  him  at  his  face  value,  and  he  had  no 


io  ANYTHING  ONCE 

right  in  the  world  to  question  her,  at  least 
without  giving  some  sort  of  account  of  him- 
self. 

"I  have  no  intention  of  traveling  by  rail," 
he  assured  her.  "A  little  while  before  you 
found  me — I  don't  quite  know  how  long — I 
was  crossing  that  pasture  which  adjoins  the 
wheat-field,  thinking  that  this  road  might  be 
a  short  cut  to  Hudsondale,  when  something 
came  after  me  from  behind  and  butted  me 
over  the  fence.  I  think  my  head  must  have 
been  cut  open  by  striking  against  a  stone,  for 
I  don't  remember  anything  more  until  you 
poured  that  water  over  my  face." 

The  girl  nodded. 

"I  seen  the  stone  with  blood  on  it  right  near 
you;  you  must  have  bumped  off  it  an'  turned 
over,"  she  averred.  "Anybody  who  goes 
traipsin'  through  old  Terwilliger's  pasture 
is  apt  to  meet  up  with  that  bull  of  his." 

So  she  had  reasoned  his  predicament  out 
without  asking  any  of  the  questions  that  an- 
other girl  would  have  heaped  upon  him. 

He  turned  to  her  suddenly  with  a  fresh 
spark  of  interest  in  his  eyes. 


A  ROADSIDE  MEETING         11 

"How  did  you  know  that  I  didn't  belong 
here?"  he  demanded. 

The  corners  of  her  lips  curled  upward  in  a 
comical  little  grimace  of  amusement,  and  he 
realized  that  before  they  had  been  set  in  a 
straight  line  far  too  mature  for  her  evident 
youth. 

"No  grown  men  'round  these  parts  wears 
short  pants,  an',  anyhow,  I  knew  you  were 
different  from  the  way  you  talk;  somethin* 
like  the  welfare  workers,  with  the  hell  an' 
brimstone  left  out,"  the  girl  replied  soberly. 
"I'm  goin'  to  talk  like  you  some  day." 

It  was  the  first  remark  she  had  made  volun- 
tarily concerning  herself,  and  he  was  quick 
to  seize  his  advantage. 

"Who  are  you,  young  lady?  You've  been 
awfully  kind  to  me,  and  I  don't  know  to  whom 
my  gratitude  is  due." 

"Not  to  anybody."  She  turned  her  head 
away  slightly,  but  not  before  he  saw  a  flush 
mount  beneath  the  superficial  coating  of 
freckles,  and  marveled  at  the  whiteness  of 
her  skin.  Hers  was  not  the  leathery  tan  of  the 
typical  farmer's  daughter,  inured  to  all 


12  ANYTHING  ONCE 

weathers,  yet  her  hands,  although  small,  were 
toil-worn,  and  there  was  an  odd  incongruity 
between  her  dark  eyes  and  the  pale,  flaxen 
hue  of  that  ridiculous  wisp  of  a  braid. 

"I  didn't  do  any  more  for  you  than  I'd  do 
for  a  dog  if  I  found  him  lyin'  there." 

Her  naive  sincerity  robbed  the  statement  of 
its  uncomplimentary  suggestion,  and  the 
young  man  chuckled,  but  persisted. 

"What  is  your  name?"  Mine  is  James — 
er—  Botts." 

"Lou  Lacey.  It  was  *L'  day,  you  know,  an' 
there  was  a  teeny  bit  of  lace  on  my  dress.  I 
ain't  ever  had  any  since." 

She  added  the  last  with  unconscious  pathos 
in  her  tones,  but  in  his  increasing  interest  and 
mystification  the  man  who  called  himself 
"Botts"  was  unaware  of  it.  What  on  earth 
could  she  mean  about  L  day,  and  if  she  were 
running  away  why  did  she  appear  so  serenely 
unconcerned  about  the  future  as  her  manner 
indicated? 

He  felt  that  he  must  draw  her  out,  and  he 
seemed  to  have  hit  upon  the  right  method  by 
giving  confidence  for  confidence ;  but  just  how 


A  ROADSIDE  MEETING         13 

much  could  he  tell  her  about  himself?  James 
Botts's  own  face  reddened. 

"I'm  walking  to  my  home  in  New  York," 
he  explained.  "But  I'm  late ;  I  ought  to  make 
it  by  a  certain  date,  and  I  don't  think  I'll  be 
able  to,  since  my  encounter  with  Terwilliger's 
bull.  Where  do  you  live?  I  mean,  where  are 
you  going?  Where  is  your  home?" 

"Nowheres,"  Lou  Lacey  replied  off- 
handedly, following  with  her  eyes  the  grace- 
ful swoop  of  a  dragonfly  over  the  tumbling 
waters  of  the  little  stream. 

"Great  Scott!"  The  astounded  young 
man  sat  up  suddenly,  with  his  hand  to  his 
head.  "Why,  everybody  has  a  home,  you 
know!" 

"Not  everybody,"  the  girl  dissented  quietly. 

"But — but  surely  you  haven't  been  walk- 
ing the  roads?" 

"There  was  genuine  horror  in  his  tones. 
"Where  did  you  come  from  this  morning 
when  you  found  me?" 

"From  Hess's  farm,  back  up  the  road  a 
piece,"  she  replied  with  her  usual  unemo- 
tional literalness.  "I  been  there  a  week,  but 


I4  ANYTHING  ONCE 

I  didn't  like  it,  so  I  came  away.  The  wel- 
fare workers  got  me  that  place  when  my  time 
was  up." 

Her  time  I  Good  Heavens,  could  this  little 
country  girl  with  her  artless  manner  and  can- 
did eyes  be  an  ex-convict?  Surely  she  was  too 
young,  too  simple.  Yet  the  gates  of  hideous 
reformatories  had  clanged  shut  behind 
younger  and  more  innocent-appearing  delin- 
quents than  she. 

His  eyes  wandered  over  her  thin,  childish 
figure  as  she  sat  there  beside  him,  still  intent 
upon  the  movements  of  the  glittering  dragon- 
fly, and  he  shuddered.  Those  horrible, 
shapeless  shoes  might  very  well  have  been 
prison-made,  and  the  striped  dress  was  ex- 
actly like  those  he  had  seen  in  some  pictures 
of  female  convicts.  Her  freckles,  too,  might 
have  been  the  result  of  only  a  few  days'  ex- 
posure to  the  sun,  and  he  had  already  observed 
the  whiteness  of  the  skin  beneath ;  that  white- 
ness which  resembled  the  prison  pallor. 

Could  it  be  that  her  very  gawkiness  and 
frank  simplicity  were  the  result  not  of  bucolic 
nature,  but  of  dissimulation?  Every  instinct 


A  ROADSIDE  MEETING         15 

within  the  man  cried  out  against  the  thought, 
but  a  devil  of  doubt  and  uncertainty  drove 
him  on. 

"I  thought  that  didn't  look  like  the  dress  of 
a  farmer's  daughter!"  He  essayed  to  laugh, 
but  it  seemed  to  him  that  there  was  a  grating 
falsetto  in  his  tones.  "You  haven't  worked  in 
the  garden  much,  either,  have  you?" 

"Garden!"  Lou  sniffed.  "They  promised 
the  welfare  workers  that  they'd  give  me  out- 
door chores  to  build  me  up,  but  when  I  got 
there  I  found  I  had  to  cook  for  eighteen  farm- 
hands, as  well  as  the  family,  an'  wait  on  them, 
an'  clean  up  an'  all.  Said  they'd  pay  me 
twelve  dollars  a  month,  an'  I  could  take  the 
first  month's  money  out  by  the  week  in  clothes, 
an'  for  the  first  week  all  they  gave  me  was  this 
sunbonnet  an'  apron.  I  left  them  the  other 
dress  an'  things  I  had,  an'  I  figgered  the  rest 
of  the  money  they  owed  me  would  just  about 
pay  for  this  ham  an'  bread  an'  the  knife  an' 
soap.  The  comb  was  mine." 

She  added  the  last  in  a  tone  of  proud  pos- 
session, and  James  Botts  asked  very  soberly: 

"The  welfare  workers  found  this  position 


16  ANYTHING  ONCE 

for  you,  Lou  Lacey?    But  where  did  they  find 
you?" 

"Why,  at  the  institootion,"  she  responded, 
as  though  surprised  that  he  had  not  already 
guessed.  "I  ain't  ever  been  anywhere  else; 
I've  always  been  a  orphin." 


CHAPTER  II 

PARTNERS 

FOR  a  moment  James  Botts  turned  his 
head  away  lest  she  see  the  deep  red 
flood  of  shame  which  had  suffused  his  face. 
Poor  little  skinny,  homely,  orphan  kid, 
thrown  out  to  buck  the  world  for  herself,  and 
stopping  in  her  first  flight  from  injustice  to 
help  a  stranger,  only  to  have  him  think  her 
a  possible  criminal!  He  was  glad  that  his 
back  twinged  and  his  head  throbbed ;  he  ought 
to  be  kicked  out  into  the  ditch  and  left  to  die 
there  for  harboring  such  thoughts. 

He  was  a  cur,  and  she — hang  it  I  There 
was  something  appealing  about  her  in  spite 
of  her  looks.  Perhaps  it  was  the  sturdy  self- 
reliance,  which  in  itself  betrayed  her  utter  in- 
nocence and  ignorance  of  the  world,  that  made 
a  fellow  want  to  protect  her. 

In  his  own  circle  James  Botts  had  never 
17 


:8  ANYTHING  ONCE 

been  known  as  a  Sir  Galahad,  but  he  had  been 
away  from  his  own  circle  for  exactly  nineteen 
eventful  days  now,  and  in  that  space  of  time 
he  had  learned  much.  His  heart  went  out  in 
sympathy  as  he  turned  once  more  to  her. 

But  at  the  moment  Lou  Lacey  seemed  in  no 
momentary  need  of  sympathetic  understand- 
ing. She  was  pursuing  a  hapless  frog  with 
well-directed  shots  of  small  pebbles,  and 
there  was  an  impish  grin  upon  her  face. 

"How  old  are  you?"  he  asked  suddenly. 

Lou  shrugged. 

"I  don't  know.  About  seventeen  or  eigh- 
teen, I  reckon;  at  least,  they  told  me  six  years 
ago  that  I  was  twelve,  an'  I've  kept  track  ever 
since.  When  I  was  sixteen,  though,  and  it 
was  time  for  me  to  be  got  a  place  somewhere, 
the  matron  put  me  back  a  couple  of  years; 
we  were  gettin'  more  babies  from  the  poor 
farm  than  usual,  an'  I  was  kinder  handy  with 
them.  She  had  to  let  me  go  now  because  one 
of  the  visitin'  deaconesses  let  out  that  she'd 
seen  me  there  sixteen  years  ago  herself,  an'  I 
was  toddlin'  round  then.  Oh,  I  missed  him!" 

The  frog,  with  a  triumphant  plop,  had  dis- 


PARTNERS  19 

appeared  beneath  a  flat,  submerged  stone,  and 
Lou  turned  to  note  her  companion's  pain- 
drawn  face. 

"I'm  goin'  to  fix  that  bandage  on  your  head 
again,"  she  declared  as  she  sprang  to  her  feet. 
"Is  your  back  hurtin'  you  very  much?" 

"Not  very."  He  forced  a  smile,  but  his 
face  was  grave,  for,  despite  his  suffering,  the 
problem  which  this  accidental  meeting  had 
forced  upon  him  filled  his  thoughts.  What 
was  he  to  do  with  this  girl?  In  spite  of  the 
statement  that  she  had  "kept  track"  of  her  last 
few  years  he  could  not  credit  the  fact  that  she 
was  approximately  eighteen;  fourteen  would 
be  nearer  the  guess  he  would  have  made,  and 
it  was  unthinkable  that  a  child  like  that 
should  wander  about  the  country  alone. 

He  could  not  bear  the  thought  of  betraying 
her  innocent  confidences  by  handing  her  over 
to  the  nearest  authorities;  it  would  mean  her 
being  held  as  a  vagrant  and  possibly  sent  to 
the  county  poor-farm.  Perhaps  the  people 
with  whom  she  had  been  placed  were  not  so 
bad,  after  all ;  if  he  took  her  back  and  reasoned 
with  them,  insisted  upon  their  keeping  to 


20  ANYTHING  ONCE 

their  bargain,  and  giving  her  lighter  tasks  to 
perform. 

Then  he  remembered  his  own  appearance, 
and  smiled  ruefully.  Instead  of  listening  they 
would  in  all  probability  set  the  dog  on  him. 
Perhaps  he  could  persuade  her  to  return  of 
her  own  accord. 

"The  people  you  were  working  for;  their 
name  was  'Hess'?"  he  asked. 

She  nodded  as  she  finished  fastening  the 
cool  compress  about  his  forehead. 

"Henry  Hess  an'  his  wife,  Freida,  an' — an' 
Max." 

Something  in  the  quality  of  her  tone  more 
than  her  hesitation  made  him  demand 
sharply: 

'Who  is  Max?" 

"Their  son."  Her  voice  was  very  low,  but 
for  the  first  time  it  trembled  slightly. 

"You  don't  like  him,  do  you?"  He  waited 
a  moment,  and  then  added  abruptly:  "Why 
not?" 

"Because  he's  a— a  beast!  I  don't  want  to 
talk  about  him!  I  don't  want  even  to  remem- 
ber that  such  things  as  he  is  can  be  let  live!" 


PARTNERS  21 

James  Botts  turned  and  looked  at  her  and 
then  away,  for  the  childish  figure  had  been 
drawn  up  tensely  with  a  sort  of  instinctive 
dignity  which  sat  not  ill  upon  it,  and  from 
her  dark  eyes  insulted  womanhood  had 
blazed. 

"I'd  like  to  go  back  and  lick  him  to  a  stand- 
still !"  to  his  own  utter  amazement  Botts  heard 
his  own  voice  saying  thickly. 

The  fire  had  died  out  of  Lou's  face  and 
she  replied  composedly: 

"What  for?  He  don't  matter  any  more, 
does  he?  We're  goin'  on." 

The  last  sentence  recalled  his  problem  once 
more  to  his  mind.  What  in  the  world  was  he 
to  do  with  this  young  creature  whom  fate  had 
thrust  upon  his  hands?  Four  quarters  and  a 
fifty-cent  piece  represented  his  entire  capital 
at  the  moment,  and  if  he  did  put  her  into 
the  hands  of  the  county  authorities  until  his 
journey  was  completed  and  he  could  make 
other  arrangements  for  her,  it  would  mean  a 
delay  on  his  part  now,  when  every  hour 
counted  for  so  much  just  now* 


22  ANYTHING  ONCE 

"Do  you  know  how  far  we  are  from  Hud- 
sondale?"  he  asked. 

"Not  more  'n  two  miles,  the  farm-hands 
used  to  walk  there  often  of  an  evenin'  to  the 
movies." 

The  girl  had  cleaned  her  knife  in  the  brook 
and  was  now  wrapping  it  in  the  apron, 
together  with  the  remains  of  their  repast. 

"They  say  that  not  more'n  twenty  miles 
from  there  you  can  see  the  big  river,  but  I 
ain't  ever  been." 

"That's  the  way  I  was  going,"  he  observed 
thoughtlessly.  "From  Hudsondale  to  High- 
vale,  and  right  on  down  the  west  bank  of  the 
river  to  New  York." 

Lou  sat  back  on  her  heels  reflectively. 

"All  right,"  she  said  at  last.  "I  ain't  ever 
figgered  on  goin's  far  as  New  York,  but  I 
might  as  well  go  there  as  anywhere,  and  I 
guess  I  kin  keep  up  with  you  now  your  back's 
kinder  sprained.  We'll  go  along  together." 

James  Botts  gulped. 

"Certainly  not!"  he  retorted  severely,  when 
he  could  articulate.  "It's  utterly  out  of  the 
question !  You're  not  a  little  child  any  longer, 


PARTNERS  23 

and  I'm  not  old  enough  to  pose  as  your  father. 
You  must  think  what  people  would  say!" 

"Why  must  I?"  Her  clear  eyes  shamed 
him.  "What's  it  matter?  I  guess  two  kin 
puzzle  out  the  roads  better  than  one,  an'  if  I 
have  been  in  a  brick  house  with  a  high  fence 
an'  a  playground  between  where  never  a 
blade  of  grass  grew,  for  about  eighteen  years, 
it  looks  to  me  as  if  I  could  take  care  of  myself 
a  lot  better  'n  you  kin!" 

"But  you  don't  understand!"  he  groaned. 
"There  are  certain  conditions  that  I  can't  very 
well  explain,  and  if  I  did  you'd  think  I  had 
gone  crazy." 

"Maybe,"  Lou  observed  non-committally, 
but  she  settled  herself  on  the  bank  once  more 
with  such  an  air  of  resigned  anticipation  that 
he  felt  forced  to  continue. 

"You  know  an  army  has  to  obey  orders, 
don't  you?"  he  floundered  on  desperately. 
"Well,  I'm  like  a  one-man  army;  there  are 
a  lot  of  rules  I've  got  to  follow.  This  is  Mon- 
day afternoon,  and  I  must  reach  New  York 
by  midnight  on  Saturday;  that's  ninety  miles 
or  more,  and  you  never  could  make  it  in  the 


24  ANYTHING  ONCE 

world.  I've  got  just  a  dollar  and  a  half,  and 
I  mustn't  beg,  borrow,  or  steal  food  or  a  lift 
or  anything,  but  work  my  way,  and  never  take 
any  job  that'll  pay  me  more  than  twenty-five 
cents. 

"Of  course,  II  people  invite  me  to  get  up 
and  ride  with  them  for  a  little  I  can  accept, 
or  if  they  offer  me  food,  but  I  can't  ask.  Even 
the  money  I  earn  in  quarters  here  and  there 
I  mustn't  use  for  traveling,  but  only  to  buy 
food  or  medicine  or  clothes  with.  And  the 
worst  of  it  is  that  I  cannot  explain  to  a  soul 
why  I'm  doing  all  this." 

Lou  regarded  him  gravely,  and  opened  Her 
lips  to  speak,  but  closed  them  again  and  for  an 
appreciable  moment  there  was  silence. 

"Well,  I  don't  see  anythin'  in  that  that  says 
you  can't  have  somebody  travelin'  along  with 
you,"  she  remarked,  and  that  odd  little  smile 
flashed  again  across  her  face.  "It  don't  make 
any  difference  to  me  what  you  can  or  can't 
do.  I'm  foot-loose!" 

Not  until  later  was  the  meaning  of  that 
final  statement  to  be  made  manifest  to  her 
companion;  the  one  fact  upon  his  mind  was 


PARTNERS  25 

that  nothing  he  had  said  had  moved  her  an 
iota  from  her  original  decision.  They  would 
go  along  together. 

Well,  why  not?  It  was  obvious  that  he 
could  not  send  her  back  to  the  Hess  farm 
nor  hand  her  over  to  the  authorities.  His 
own  appearance  would  not  be  conducive  to 
confidence  in  his  assurances  if  he  attempted 
to  leave  her  in  the  care  of  some  country 
woman  until  he  could  return  and  make  proper 
arrangements  for  her,  and  the  only  alternative 
was  that  she  must  tramp  the  roads  by  herself 
until  she  found  work,  and  that  was  out  of  the 
question. 

At  least,  he  could  protect  her,  and  she 
looked  wiry  in  spite  of  her  skinniness;  it  was 
as  possible  that  she  might  make  the  distance 
as  he,  with  his  aching  back.  But  on  one  point 
he  was  determined:  when  they  neared  the 
suburbs  of  New  York  he  would  telephone  to 
a  certain  gray-haired,  aristocratically  high- 
nosed  old  lady  and  persuade  her  to  send  out 
her  car  for  this  waif. 

The  child  had  been  kind  to  him,  and  he 
would  protect  her  from  all  harm,  but  not  for 


26  ANYTHING  ONCE 

all  the  gilt-edged  securities  in  Wall  Street 
would  he  have  the  story  of  his  knight-errantry 
get  abroad,  nor  the  unprepossessing  heroine 
of  it  revealed  to  his  friends. 

The  old  lady  would  find  some  suitable  po- 
sition for  her,  and,  as  she  evidently  possessed 
no  reputation  of  any  sort  at  the  moment,  a  six- 
day  journey  in  his  company  could  harm  it  no 
more  if  the  truth  became  known  than  if  she 
had  tramped  upon  her  way  alone. 

"All  right,"  he  said.  "We'll  be  partners, 
and  I'll  do  my  best  to  look  out  for  you." 

She  laughed  outright,  a  merry,  tinkling 
little  laugh  like  the  brook  rippling  over  the 
pebbles  at  her  feet,  and  the  man  involuntarily 
stared.  It  was  the  sole  attractive  thing  about 
her  that  he  had  observed. 

"Reckon  it'll  be  me  that'll  look  after  you!" 
she  retorted.  "Oh,  there's  somethin'  comin'l 
Duck  in  here,  quick!" 

Seizing  her  bundle,  she  wiggled  like  an  eel 
through  the  willow  thicket  until  she  was  com- 
pletely hidden  from  view,  and  Botts  followed 
as  well  as  he  was  able,  with  one  hand  fending 


PARTNERS  27 

off  the  supple  young  shoots  from  whipping 
back  upon  his  wounded  forehead. 

He  had  heard  nothing,  yet  the  girl's  quick 
ears  had  caught  the  faint  creaking  of  a  cart 
along  the  road,  and  now  a  cheerful  but  some- 
what shrill  whistle  came  to  him  in  a  vaguely 
reminiscent  strain. 

"That's  Lem  Matties,"  Lou  whispered  as 
she  reached  behind  him  and  drew  the  willows 
yet  more  screeningly  about  their  trail.  "He's 
whistlin'  'Ida-Ho';  it's  the  only  tune  he  can 
remember." 

"Who  is  he?"  demanded  her  companion. 

"The  Hess's  next-door  neighbor.  She'll 
stop  him  right  away  an'  ask  if  he's  seen  me 
on  the  road,  an'  they'll  all  be  after  me,  but 
they'll  never  think  of  the  old  cow-trail;  one 
of  the  hands  showed  it  to  me  an'  told  me  it  led 
clear  to  Hudsondale,  an'  came  out  by  the 
freight-yards." 

For  a  moment  she  paused  with  a  little  catch 
in  her  breath.  "Think  you  kin  make  it,  Mr. 
Botts?" 

"Sure!"    He  smiled  and  held  out  his  hand. 


28  ANYTHING  ONCE 

"We're  partners  now,  and  I'm  'Jim'  to  my 
friends,  Lou." 

"All  right,  Jim,"  she  responded  indiffer- 
ently, but  she  laid  her  little  work-worn  hand 
in  his  for  a  brief  minute.  "Come  on." 

With  the  bundle  under  her  arm  once  more 
she  led  the  way,  and  her  partner  followed  her 
to  where  the  brook  dwindled  and  the  thicket 
gave  place  to  a  stretch  of  woodland,  between 
the  trees  of  which  a  faint,  narrow  trail  could 
be  discerned. 

"We're  all  right  now  if  we  kin  keep  on 
goin',"  announced  Lou.  "Nobody  comes  this 
way  any  more,  an'  the  feller  said  that  the 
tracks  runs  through  the  woods  clear  to  the 
Hunkie  settlement  by  the  yards.  Feelin'  all 
right,  Jim?" 

"I  guess  so."  Jim  put  his  hand  to  his  side, 
where  each  breath  brought  a  stab  of  pain,  but 
brought  it  down  again  quickly  lest  her  swift 
glance  catch  the  motion.  "It's  pretty  in  here, 
isn't  it?" 

"It's  longer,"  replied  Lou  practically.  "An' 
the  sun's  gittin'  low.  Let's  hurry." 

There  was  little  further  talk  between  them, 


PARTNERS  29 

?or  Jim  had  already  discovered  that  his  com- 
panion was  not  one  to  speak  unless  she  had 
something  to  say,  and  he  was  breathing  in 
short  snatches  to  stifle  the  pain.  The  track 
wound  endlessly  in  and  out  among  the  trees, 
and  in  the  dim  light  he  would  have  lost  it 
altdgeth'er  more  than  once  had  it  not  been  for 
her  light  touch  upon  his  arm. 

At  length  the  track  turned  abruptly  through 
the  thinning  trees  and  led  down  to  a  rough 
sort  of  road,  on  either  side  of  which  ram- 
shackle wooden  tenements  leaned  crazily 
against  each  other,  with  dingy  rags  hanging 
from  lines  on  the  crooked  porches.  Slat- 
ternly, dark-skinned  women  gazed  curiously 
at  them  as  they  passed. 

From  somewhere  came  the  squalling  of  a 
hurt  child  and  a  man's  oath  roughly  silencing 
it,  while  through  and  above  all  other  sounds 
came  the  bleating  of  a  harmonica  ceaseless 
reiterating  a  monotonous,  foreign  air. 

The  sun  had  set,  and  from  just  beyond  the 
squalid  settlement  came  the  crash  and  clang 
of  freight-cars  being  shunted  together.  In 
spite  of  his  pain,  Jim  realized  that  nowhere 


30  ANYTHING  ONCE 

in  this  vicinity  could  his  self-constituted  com- 
panion rest  for  the  night;  oper.  fields  or  dense 
woodland  were  safer  far  for  her, 

"Let  us  cross  the  tracks  and  push  on  up  that 
hill  road  a  little,"  he  suggested.  "We  can't 
stay  here,  and  they'll  think  we  are  tramps  if 
they  catch  us  by  the  railroad." 

"I  guess  that's  what  we  are."  Lou  wrinkled 
her  already  upturned  nose.  "But  the  country 
would  be  nicer  again,  if  you  ain't  give 
out." 

He  assured  her  doggedly  that  he  had  not, 
and  they  crossed  the  tracks  and  started  up  the 
steep  hill  road  past  the  coal-dump  and  the 
few  scattered  cottages  to  where  the  woodland 
closed  in  about  them  once  more. 

Jim  picked  up  a  stout  stick  and  leaned 
heavily  upon  it  as  they  plodded  along,  while 
the  twilight  deepened  to  darkness  and  the  stars 
appeared.  The  girl's  step  lagged  now,  but 
she  kept  up  in  little  spurts  and  set  her  lips 
determinedly. 

At  length  they  came  to  another  stream,  a 
rushing  mill-race  this  time,  with  an  old  mill, 
moss-covered  and  fallen  into  decay  beside  it, 


PARTNERS  31 

and  by  tacit  consent  they  sank  down  on  the 
worn  step. 

"I  don't  believe  we  can  go  any  farther," 
Jim  panted.  "I  guess  this  is  as  good  a  place 
as  any  to  camp  for  the  night,  and  you  can 
sleep  in  there." 

He  indicated  the  sagging  door  behind  him, 
and  Lou  followed  his  gesture  with  a  reluctant 
eye.  Jim  noted  the  glance  and,  misunder- 
standing it,  added  hastily: 

"I  don't  believe  there  are  any  rats  in  there, 
but  if  you'll  lend  me  your  matches  I'll  see." 

"Rats!"  she  repeated  in  withering  scorn. 
"There  was  plenty  of  them  in  the  insti — 
where  I  come  from.  I  was  just  thinkin' 
maybe  somebody  else  was  sleepin'  there 
already." 

She  handed  over  the  matches  and  Jim 
pushed  open  the  door  and  entered,  feeling 
carefully  for  rotten  boards  in  the  decayed 
flooring.  A  prolonged  survey  by  the  flick- 
ering light  of  the  matches  assured  him  that 
the  ancient,  cobwebbed  place  was  deserted, 
and  he  turned  again  to  the  door,  but  its  step 
was  unoccupied  and  nowhere  in  the  starlight 


32  ANYTHING  ONCE 

could  he  discern  a  flutter  of  that  blue-and- 
white  striped  dress. 

Could  she  have  run  away  from  him?  At 
the  thought  a  forlorn  sense  of  loneliness  swept 
over  him  greater  than  he  had  known  since 
he  had  started  upon  his  tramp.  She  was  tired 
out;  could  he  in  some  way  have  frightened 
her,  or  had  a  mad  spirit  of  adventure  sent  her 
on  like  a  will-o'-the-wisp  into  the  night? 

"Lou!"  he  called,  and  his  voice  echoed 
back.  "Lou!" 

All  at  once  he  noticed  what  he  had  not  ob- 
served before — a  single  light  by  the  roadside 
in  a  clearing  ahead.  Perhaps  she  had  gone 
there  for  more  secure  shelter. 

His  cogitations  were  abruptly"  interrupted 
by  a  dog's  excited  barking,  subdued  by  dis- 
tance, but  deep-throated.  The  sound  came 
from  the  direction  of  the  clearing,  and,  taking 
up  his  heavy  stick,  Jim  hobbled  to  the  road. 
If  Lou  had  got  into  any  trouble 

The  barking  turned  to  growls;  horrible, 
crunching  growls  which  brought  his  heart  up 
into  his  throat  as  he  broke  into  a  run,  for- 
getting his  pain.  He  had  not  gained  the  toj> 


PARTNERS  33 

of  the  rise  in  the  road,  however,  when  the 
growls  gave  place  to  wild  yelps  and  howls 
which  rapidly  diminished  in  the  distance  and 
presently  Lou  appeared  holding  carefully 
before  her  something  round  and  white  which 
gleamed  in  the  starlight.  *« 

"Good  Heavens!"  he  exclaimed  when  she 
neared  him.  "What  on  earth  have  you  been 
doing?" 

"Git  on  back  'round  the  other  side  of  the 
mill!"  ordered  Lou.  "I  gotta  go  slow  or  I'll 
spill  it." 

"What  is  it?" 

But  she  vouchsafed  him  no  reply  until  they 
reached  a  ledge  of  rock  over  the  tumbling 
stream,  well  out  of  sight  of  that  light  on  the 
hill.  Then  she  set  down  the  object  she  was 
carrying  and  he  saw  that  it  was  a  bright  tin 
pan,  rilled  almost  to  the  brim  with  milk. 

"I  thought  it  would  go  good  with  our  bread 
an'  ham,"  she  explained  ingenuously.  "I  fig- 
gered  from  what  I  learned  at  that  Hess  place 
that  they'd  leave  some  out  in  the  summer  cel- 
lar to  cream,  for  they  ain't  got  any  spring- 
house,  an'  they  won't  be  likely  to  miss  one 


34  ANYTHING  ONCE 

pan  out  of  fifteen.  Besides,  there's  nothin'  in 
them  rules  you  told  me  that  stops  me  from 
beggin'  or  borrowin',  or  stealin',  either,  an'  if 
I  give  you  some  of  this  you  ain't  got  any  call 
to  ask  me  where  it  come  from." 

This  feminine  logic  left  Jim  almost  speech- 
less, but  he  managed  to  gasp  out: 

"The  dog!    Didn't  he  attack  you?" 

"I  guess  that  was  what  he  intended,  but  I 
put  down  the  pan  an'  fit  him  off."  She  added, 
with  evident  pride.  "I  never  spilled  a  drop, 
either!" 

"Good  Lord!"  Jim  ejaculated.  "I  believe 
you'd  do  anything  once!" 

"I  b'lieve  I  would,  provided  I  wanted  to," 
Lou  agreed  placidly.  Then  her  tone  changed. 
"There's  somebody  comin'  up  the  road  from 
Hudsondale  like  all  in  creation  was  after 


'em." 


Indeed,  the  sound  of  a  horse's  mad  gallop 
up  the  steep  road  by  which  they  had  come 
was  plainly  to  be  heard  increasing  in  volume, 
and  the  grating  jar  of  wheels  as  though  a 
wagon  were  being  thrown  from  side  to  side. 

"Think  it's   a   runaway?"   Jim   rose   and 


PARTNERS  35 

strained  his  eyes  into  the  darkness  at  the 
farther  end  of  the  bridge. 

"No;  driver's  drunk,  maybe,"  Lou  re- 
sponded. "The  horse's  dead  beat  an'  he's 
lashin'  it  on.  Listen!" 

Jim  heard  the  wild  gallop  falter  and  drop 
into  a  weary  trot,  only  to  leap  forward  again 
with  a  wild  scramble  of  hoofs  on  the  rocky 
road  as  though  the  wretched  animal  was 
spurred  on  by  sudden  pain,  and  he  clenched 
his  hands. 

As  though  reading  his  thoughts,  Lou  re- 
marked : 

"Only  a  beast  himself  would  treat  a  horse 
that  way.  The  folks  at  the  farm  where  I  was 
treated  theirs  somethin'  terrible.  If  he  don't 
look  out  he'll  go  over  the  side  of  the  bridge." 

Jim  had  already  started  for  the  road  in 
front  of  the  mill,  and  Lou  followed  him,  just 
as  a  perilously  swaying  lantern  came  to  view, 
showing  an  old-fashioned  carriage  of  the 
"buggy"  type  containing  a  single  occupant 
and  drawn  by  a  horse  which  was  streaked  with 
lather. 

The  light  wagon   hit  the  bridge  with   a 


36  ANYTHING  ONCE 

bounce  which  almost  sent  it  careening  over 
into  the  rushing  stream  below,  and  at  the  same 
moment  Lou  uttered  an  odd  exclamation, 
more  of  anger  than  fear,  and  straightened  up 
to  her  full  height. 

"It's  Max!"  she  informed  Jim.  "You  git 
back  behind  the  mill;  you  ain't  fit  to 
fight " 

"What  do  you  take  me  for?"  Jim  de- 
manded indignantly.  "Max  Hess,  eh?  The 
fellow  who  treated  you  so  badly  back  at  that 
farm?  I  wanted  to  get  him  this  morning,  the 
hound!  You  go  straight  back  into  the  mill 
yourself,  and  leave  me  to  handle  him." 

But  he  was  too  late.  The  wagon  had 
crossed  the  bridge  and  halted  in  front  of  them 
so  suddenly  that  the  horse  slid  along  for  a 
pace  upon  his  haunches. 

"Got  yer!"  a  thick  voice  announced  tri- 
umphantly, as  a  burly  figure  wrapped  the 
reins  around  the  whip  socket  and  lumbered  to 
the  ground.  "Yah!  I  thought  there  was  a 
feller  in  it,  somewheres !" 

He  approached  them  with  menacingly 
clenched  fists,  but  Jim  asked  coldly: 


PARTNERS  37 

"Are  you  addressing  this  young  woman?" 

"Young  thief,  you  mean!  She's  gotter 
come " 

But  Jim,  too,  had  advanced  a  pace. 

"Take  that  back  and  get  in  your  wagon  and 
beat  it,"  he  announced  distinctly,  with  a  calm- 
ness which  the  other  mistook  for  mildness. 
"If  your  name  is  Hess,  this  young  woman  is 
not  going  back  with  you,  and  I  warn  you  now 
to  be  off." 

"So  that's  it,  is  it?"  the  heavy  voice  sneered. 
"She's  my  mother's  hired  girl,  an'  she  stole  a 
lot  o'  food  an'  ran  away  this  mornin'.  Comes 
o'  takin'  in  an  asylum  brat " 

"Take  that  back,  too,  you  blackguard!" 
Jim's  voice  was  beginning  to  shake. 

"Take  nothin'  back,  'cept  Lou !  What's  she 
'doin'  with  you,  anyway?  Might  ha1  knowed 
she  was  this  sort " 

He  got  no  further,  for  something  landed 
like  a  hammer  upon  his  nose  and  the  blood 
streamed  down  between  his  thick  lips,  chok- 
ing him.  With  an  inarticulate  roar  of  rage 
he  lowered  nis  bull  neck  and  drove  at  the 
other  man,  but  the  other  man  wasn't  there! 


38  ANYTHING  ONCE 

Then  another  light,  stinging  blow  landed 
upon  his  fat  face  and  he  flailed  out  again  with 
a  force  that  turned  him  completely  around, 
for  again  his  adversary  had  danced  out  of  his 
way. 

Every  drop  of  bad  blood  in  the  lout  was 
aroused  now,  for  he  was  the  bully  and  terror 
of  his  community,  and  he  could  not  under- 
stand this  way  of  fighting,  nor  why  his  own 
blows  failed  to  land  when  this  tramp  could 
dodge  in  and  punish  him  apparently  when- 
ever he  chose. 

Jim  was  many  pounds  lighter,  and  although 
the  science  of  boxing  was  not  unknown  to  him, 
he  was  dog-tired  and  his  wrenched  back  agon- 
ized him  at  every  move.  The  sheer  weight 
of  the  other  man  was  bearing  him  down,  and 
Hess  seemed  to  realize  it,  for  with  a  grunt  of 
satisfaction  he  swung  in  and  landed  a  stiff 
body  blow  which  staggered  his  adversary. 

Hess's  left  eye  was  closed,  and  his  lips  split, 
but  he  hammered  at  his  man  relentlessly,  and 
at  length  caught  him  with  a  blow  which 
brought  him  to  his  knees.  All  the  bully's 
tblood-lust  boiled  _at_sight  of  his  half -fallen 


PARTNERS  39 

victim,  and  he  drew  back  his  heavily  shod 
foot  for  a  murderous  kick,  but  it  was  never 
delivered. 

Something  caught  that  foot  'from  behind 
and  tripped  him  heavily  into  the  dust,  then 
landed  upon  him  like  a  wildcat  and  bit  and 
tore  at  him  until  with  a  scream  of  pain  he 
managed  to  throw  it  off.  Even  as  he  struggled 
to  his  feet  it  sprang  again  upon  him,  kicking 
and  clawing,  and  he  turned  quickly,  and 
scrambling  into  the  buggy  seat,  gathered  up 
the  reins. 

Lou  stood  where  he  had  torn  himself  from 
her  grasp,  listening  to  the  volley  of  oaths  and 
clatter  of  horses's  feet  until  both  had  been 
swallowed  up  in  the  distance.  Then  she 
turned  to  where  Jim  stood  swaying,  with  one 
hand  pressed  to  his  side,  and  the  blood  from 
the  reopened  cut  upon  his  forehead  making 
his  face  look  ghastly  in  the  starlight. 

"Well,"  she  remarked  with  satisfaction.  "I 
guess  he  got  more  'n  he  come  for,  an'  we've 
seen  the  last  of  him!" 

"But  Lou!"  There  was  admiration  and 
awe  in  his  tones.  "Your  method  of  fighting 


40  ANYTHING  ONCE 

isn't  in  the  Queensberry  rules,  although  I 
must  say  it  was  effective.  I  was  going  to  try 
to  protect  you,  and  it  turned  out  the  other 
way!" 

"Don't  know  what  queen  you're  talkin' 
about,  nor  what  rules  she  made,  but  when  / 
fight,  I  fight  with  everything  I've  got,"  Lou 
declared  with  finality.  "Come  and  let  me  fix 
up  your  head  again,  an'  we'll  have  supper." 

An  hour  later  and  throughout  the  night,  a 
slim  little  figure,  rolled  in  a  man's  shabby 
coat,  lay  sleeping  peacefully  in  a  corner  of  the 
mill,  while  on  the  doorstep  in  his  shirt  sleeves 
and  with  a  stout  cudgel  across  his  knees,  a 
weary  man  drowsed  fitfully,  on  guard. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  VENDOR  OF  EVERYTHING 

WHEN  Lou  awakened  the  next  morning 
at  dawn  it  was  her  turn  to  find  herself 
deserted,  but  the  fact  failed  to  arouse  any  mis- 
givings in  her  mind.  She  had  found  in  her 
brief  experience  with  menfolks  that  they  were 
mostly  queer,  one  way  or  another,  but  this  one 
was  dependable,  and  she  felt  no  doubt  that  he 
would  turn  up  when  he  got  ready. 

Unwrapping  her  bundle,  she  took  the 
apron,  soap,  and  broken  comb,  and  wandered 
down  the  bank  of  the  stream  until  in  the  se- 
clusion beneath  the  bridge  she  came  upon  a 
pool  formed  by  outjutting  rocks,  where  she 
performed  her  limited  toilet.  Then,  scrub- 
bing the  greasy  apron  vigorously,  she  hung 
it  on  a  bramble  bush  behind  the  mill  to  dry, 
and  scuttling  across  the  road,  made  for 

41 


42  ANYTHING  ONCE 

the  woods  back  of  the  house  where  she  had 
committed  her  nocturnal  depredation. 

An  hour  later  when  Jim  came  slowly  up 
the  hill  road  from  the  direction  of  Hudson- 
dale,  he  saw  a  tiny  smudge  of  smoke  rising 
from  a  rock  well  hidden  in  the  rank  under- 
growth at  the  edge  of  the  stream,  and  ap- 
proaching it  found  Lou  industriously  brush- 
ing her  coat  with  a  broom  which  he  had 
improvised  of  small  twigs  tied  together.  Be- 
side her,  carefully  cradled  in  her  sunbonnet, 
were  half  a  dozen  new-laid  eggs. 

"Good  morning."  He  greeted  her  with  a 
little  bow,  and  sank  down  on  the  rock.  "Were 
you  frightened  to  find  yourself  left  all  alone?" 

"Oh,  no.  I  knew  you  would  come  back," 
she  replied  serenely.  Then,  as  she  noted  his 
glance  fall  upon  the  eggs  she  added  in  swift 
self-defense:  "You  needn't  think  I  stole 
those;  I  found  them  back  in  the  woods  a  piece. 
O-oh!" 

He  had  carried  a  large  paper  package 
under  his  arm,  and  now  as  he  unwrapped  it 
her  wonderment  changed  to  swift  rapture.  It 
contained  an  overall  apron  of  bright  pink 


VENDOR  OF  EVERYTHING     43 

check,  a  cheap  straw  hat,  and  a  remnant  of 
green  ribbon. 

"I  ain't  had  a  pink  dress  since  I  was  ten!" 
Her  dark  eyes  were  perilously  glistening. 
"I'd  almost  have  died  for  one,  but  you  had  to 
wear  blue  after  that,  'count  of  doin'  work 
'round.  Oh,  an'  that  hat!  I  kin  put  that  rib- 
bon on  it  as  easy  as " 

She  halted  suddenly  and  lowered  her  eye- 
lashes, adding: 

"But  you  hadn't  any  call  to  buy  them  for 
me;  I  can't  pay  you  back  right  now." 

Jim's  reply  was  irrelevant. 

"Why,  your  eyes  aren't  black,  after  all! 
They're  violet  blue,  the  deepest  blue  I  ever 
saw!"  Then  he  caught  himself  up,  reddening 
furiously,  and  after  a  moment  said  in  a  casual 
tone :  "That's  all  right  about  the  things,  Lou ; 
you  can  pay  me  when  you  get  some  work  to 
do.  Now,  go  fix  yourself  up,  and  we'll  have 
breakfast." 

When  she  had  disappeared  into  the  mill  he 
cursed  himself  for  a  fool.  The  child  had 
trusted  him  as  a  comrade;  what  would  she 
think  if  he  began  paying  her  compliments? 


44  ANYTHING  ONCE 

What  had  come  over  him,  anyway?  He  had 
seen  women  with  violet-blue  eyes  in  more 
countries  than  one;  beautiful  women  with 
every  enhancement  which  breeding  and 
wealth  could  bestow.  It  must  have  been  sheer 
surprise  in  discovering  any  attribute  of  pret- 
tiness  at  all  about  so  uncompromisingly 
homely  a  girl  as  poor  little  Lou. 

With  this  reassuring  reflection  he  set  about 
replenishing  the  fire,  and  presently  his  com- 
panion reappeared.  The  large,  flapping  hat 
sat  oddly  upon  her  small  head  with  its  tightly 
drawn-back  hair,  but  the  straight  lines  of  the 
all-enveloping  pink  gown  brought  out  the 
slender  curves  of  her  childish  figure,  and  she 
didn't  seem  quite  so  gawky,  after  all,  as  she 
moved  toward  him  over  the  rocks. 

"My,  you  look  nice!"  he  said  cheerfully. 
"I've  brought  some  rolls  from " 

"We'll  keep  them  for  later,"  Lou  inter- 
rupted him  firmly.  "There's  still  the  end  of 
the  bread  left,  and  goodness  knows  where 
we'll  eat  again!" 

They  breakfasted  gaily,  drinking  the  re- 
mainder of  the  milk  first  and  then  boiling  the 


VENDOR  OF  EVERYTHING     45 

eggs  in  the  pan,  but  Lou's  remark  about  their 
next  meal  had  made  Jim  think  seriously  of  the 
immediate  future.  He  had  assumed  a  respon- 
sibility which  he  must  fulfill,  and  his  progress 
thus  far  under  the  handicaps  he  had  spoken 
of  had  been  difficult  enough  alone. 

The  little  pink  apron-frock  had  cost  half  of 
his  capital,  the  hat  twenty-five  cents  more, 
and  the  ribbon  a  dime.  Five  cents  in  addi- 
tion for  the  rolls  had  left  but  thirty-five  of  the 
preciously  hoarded  pennies,  and  he  was 
ninety  miles  from  home,  with  a  host  of  petty, 
but  formidable,  restrictions  barring  his  way, 
and  an  adopted  orphan  on  his  hands. 

He  had  been  forced  to  turn  his  head  sharply 
away  when  he  passed  the  village  tobacco  store, 
for  every  nerve  cried  out  for  the  solace  of  a 
good  pipe,  but  he  felt  more  than  repaid  for 
the  sacrifice  by  Lou's  honest  rapture  over  the 
poor  things  he  had  been  able  to  get  for  her. 

Breakfast  finished,  and  the  remainder  of 
the  ham  stowed  away  in  the  milk-pan,  they 
carefully  skirted  the  house  on  the  rise  of  the 
hill,  and  coming  out  once  more  upon  the  road, 
they  forged  ahead.  The  strained  muscles  of 


46  ANYTHING  ONCE 

Jim's  back  and  side  were  still  sore,  but  they 
troubled  him  less  than  the  lack  of  a  smoke, 
and  for  Lou  it  was  as  though  a  new  world  had 
opened  before  her  eyes. 

The  pleasant,  wheat-growing  valley  had 
been  left  behind  them,  and  the  road  from 
being  hilly  grew  steeper  and  more  steep  until 
it  became  a  mere  rutted  trail  over  the  moun- 
tains. More  or  less  dilapidated  farm-houses, 
each  with  its  patch  of  cleared  ground,  ap- 
peared now  and  then,  and  before  the  gate  of 
one  of  these  a  huge,  canvas-covered  wagon 
stood,  bearing  the  ambitious  legend : 

TRAVELING  DEPARTMENT  STORE 
BENJ.  PERKINS 

A  genial-looking  fat  man  in  a  linen  duster 
and  a  wide-brimmed  hat  was  just  clambering 
in  over  the  wheel  when  he  spied  the  two 
pedestrians  gazing  at  the  turnout,  and  called 
good-naturedly: 

"Want  a  lift?   I'm  goin'  inter  New  Hartz." 
"Thanks.    That  is  just  where  we  are  going, 


VENDOR  OF  EVERYTHING     47 

too,"  Jim  replied  promptly.  "It's  awfully 
good  of  you  to  take  us  along." 

"Git  right  in;  plenty  of  room  with  me  on 
the  front  seat  here,"  the  proprietor  of  the  ex- 
traordinary department  store  responded 
heartily.  "Yer  sister  'd  be  nigh  tuckered  out 
ef  you  tried  ter  walk  her  inter  town  on  a  hot 
day  like  this." 

Jim  hoisted  Lou  in  over  the  big  wheel  and 
as  he  climbed  up  beside  her  the  driver  slapped 
the  reins  over  the  broad  backs  of  the  two 
horses,  and  they  were  off. 

"You  are  Mr.  Perkins?"  Jim  asked,  ignor- 
ing the  assumption  of  Lou's  relationship  to 
him. 

"That's  me!"  The  other  glanced  at  the 
fresh  bandage  about  the  young  man's  head 
which  Lou  had  applied  just  before  they 
started  out,  and  inquired:  "You  git  hurt, 
some  ways?" 

Jim  explained  briefly,  and  changed  the 
subject  with  a  haste  which  would  have  been 
significant  to  a  less  obtuse  host. 

"You  seem  to  have  a  little  of  everything 
back  here  in  the  van,  Mr.  Perkins." 


48  ANYTHING  ONCE 

"Reckon  I  hev,"  the  other  agreed  com- 
placently. "From  a  spool  of  thread  to  a 
pitchfork,  and  from  a  baby  rattle  to  wax 
funeral  wreaths,  there  ain't  nothin'  the  folk 
hereabout  hev  use  for  that  I  don't  carry.  The 
big  ottermobile  order  trucks  don't  hurt  my 
business  none;  I  ben  workin'  up  my  trade 
around  here  fer  twenty  year." 

Mr.  Perkins  paused  to  draw  a  pipe  and  to- 
bacco sack  from  his  pocket,  and  Jim's  throat 
twitched.  After  filling  the  pipe  the  genial 
pedler  offered  the  sack.  "Hev  some?" 

Jim  hesitated,  and  his  face  reddened,  but 
at  last  he  shook  his  head  determinedly. 

"Thanks;  I— I  don't  smoke." 

Lou,  who  had  hunched  about  in  her  seat  to 
stare  at  the  assorted  array  of  articles  in  the 
body  of  the  van,  turned  and  looked  curiously 
at  him.  Surely  that  hard  bulge  in  the  coat 
upon  which  she  had  slept  on  the  previous 
night  had  been  the  bowl  of  a  pipe!  The  eyes 
which  Jim  had  called  "violet  blue"  narrowed 
for  an  instant  in  puzzled  wonderment,  then 
blurred  as  with  swift  understanding  she 
glanced  down  at  the  new  pink  apron  and 


VENDOR  OF  EVERYTHING     49 

stroked  it  softly.  But  Jim  had  gone  on  talk- 
ing rather  nervously. 

"You  don't  get  much  trade  around  here,  do 
you?  Not  many  houses  in  these  mountains." 

"Oh,  here  and  thar,"  Mr.  Perkins  replied 
easily.  "Here  and  thar." 

The  conversation  which  ensued  was  all 
Greek  to  Lou,  who  took  off  her  hat,  leaned 
her  head  against  the  side  of  the  van,  and  went 
peacefully  to  sleep. 

She  was  awakened  by  a  hand  gently  shak- 
ing her  shoulder  and  found  that  the  van  had 
been  halted  in  the  middle  of  a  maple-lined 
street  before  a  big  house  which  bore  a  sign 
labeled:  "Congress  Hotel."  Busy  little  shops 
shouldered  it  on  either  side,  and  a  band-stand 
stood  in  the  open  square. 

"Come  down,  Lou."  Jim  stood  on  the  side- 
walk reaching  up  for  her  hands.  t  "This  is 
New  Hartz." 

Mr.  Perkins  was  not  in  the  van,  but  as  Lou 
scrambled  over  the  wheel  he  appeared  from 
the  door  of  the  hotel. 

"Young  man,  I  wish  I  was  goin'  further, 
but  I  ain't,  and  I  want  ter  talk  a  little  busi- 


50  ANYTHING  ONCE 

ness  with  you."  He  drew  Jim  aside.  "You 
and  your  sister  wouldn't  ha'  ben  walkin'  it  in 
from  Hudsonvale  if  you  could  ha'  paid  ter 
come  any  other  way." 

"No,  Mr.  Perkins."  Jim  backed  away 
smilingly.  "We  couldn't  think  of — of  bor- 
rowing, but  thanks  for  the  ten-mile  lift  into 
New  Hartz." 

"Glad  ter  hev  your  company."  Mr.  Per- 
kins suddenly  dived  around  to  the  back  of  the 
van  and  his  voice  came  to  them  muffled  from 
the  depths  of  its  interior.  "Wait  jest  a 
minute." 

He  emerged,  red  and  perspiring,  with  a 
small  package  wrapped  in  a  square  of  some- 
thing shimmering  and  white  in  his  hands, 
which  he  offered  to  the  wondering  Lou. 

"It's  jest  a  little  present  fer  you,  miss,"  he 
said. 

Lou  accepted  it  gravely. 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  she  said  primly.  "You 
ain't  got  any  call  to  give  me  this,  not  after 
bringin'  us  all  the  way  from  Hudsondale." 

"I  guess  I  can  make  a  little  present  if  I'm 
a  mind  ter,  ter  a  pretty  little  girl  like  you." 


VENDOR  OF  EVERYTHING     51 

Mr.  Perkins  turned  to  Jim.  "Wish  yer  both 
luck  on  your  way." 

They  took  leave  of  the  kindly  little  fat  man 
and  moved  off  up  the  village  street  and  beyond 
the  inevitable  car  tracks  to  the  dwindling 
country  road  once  more.  In  the  shade  of  a 
big  tree  at  a  crossroads,  Lou  glanced  up  at 
her  companion. 

"Could  we  set  down  here  for  a  spell?"  she 
asked.  "I  ain't  tired,  Jim,  but  I  feel  like  I'd 
die  if  I  can't  open  this!" 

She  gestured  with  Mr.  Perkins's  gift,  and 
Jim  dropped  laughingly  on  the  grass. 

"Of  course.    Let's  see  what's  in  it." 

Gravely  she  seated  herself  beside  him  and 
unknotted  the  square  of  white.  It  contained 
three  little  handkerchiefs  with  pink  borders, 
a  small  bottle  of  particularly  strong  scent,  and 
a  string  of  beads  remotely  resembling  coral. 
The  square  in  which  the  articles  had  been 
wrapped  proved  to  be  a  large  white  silk 
handkerchief  with  an  American  flag  stamped 
in  the  corner. 

"That  must  be  for  you,  Jim,"  Lou  said 
slowly.  As  in  a  trance  she  slipped  the  string 


52  ANYTHING  ONCE 

of  beads  over  her  head,  opened  the  bottle,  and 
poured  a  few  drops  of  its  contents  upon  one 
of  the  little  handkerchiefs,  inhaling  the  rank 
odor  in  ecstasy. 

Jim  watched  her,  amused  but  touched  also. 
To  that  luxury-starved  little  soul  the  coarse 
handkerchiefs  and  cheap  perfume  meant 
rapture,  and  he  resolved  to  see  that  the  gray- 
haired  lady  in  New  York  provided  something 
better  for  Lou  than  a  servant's  position.  Edu- 
cation, perhaps 

"It  must  be  past  noon,  for  the  shadows  have 
started  to  go  the  other  way."  Her  voice  broke 
in  upon  his  meditations.  "We'd  better  eat  the 
rolls  an'  ham  now.  How  far  is  it  to  where 
we're  goin'?" 

"Eight  miles;  I'm  afraid  it  is  a  long  way 
for  you " 

"Then  the  sooner  we  git  started  the  better," 
the  girl  interrupted.  "I'll  take  the  pan  an' 
run  back  to  that  yellow  house  we  just  passed 
for  some  water." 

Without  waiting  for  a  reply  she  tilted  the 
little  scent  bottle  carefully  against  the  tree- 
trunk  and  departed,  while  Jim  stretched  him- 


VENDOR  OF  EVERYTHING     53 

self  out  luxuriously  in  the  grateful  shade.  He 
was  tired,  and  the  still  heat  of  noon  had  a 
stupefying  effect.  Lou  seemed  long  in  return- 
ing, and  his  thoughts  grew  nebulous  until  he 
finally  drifted  off  into  slumber. 

When  he  awakened  the  shadows  had 
lengthened  to  those  of  mid-afternoon,  and 
their  was  a  delicious,  unaccustomed  aroma 
in  the  air.  He  gazed  about  him  in  a  be- 
wildered fashion  to  find  Lou  sitting  cross- 
legged  in  the  grass,  and  spread  upon  it  on  the 
apron  between  them  were  the  rolls  and  ham, 
and  a  huckleberry  pie,  still  warm,  and  fairly 
exuding  juice. 

"Good  Lord,  where  did  you  get  it?"  he 
demanded. 

"Remember  that  yellow  house  where  I  went 
to  git  water?"  Lou  laughed,  but  there  was  a 
new  note  of  shyness  in  her  voice.  "When  we 
passed  it  first  I  saw  that  the  currant  bushes 
were  just  loaded  down,  an'  a  woman  was  out 
pickin'  them,  though  it's  ironin'  day.  I  fig- 
gered  if  I  pick  for  her  she'd  maybe  pay  me, 
an'  she  did.  I — I  guessed  you  was  out  of — 
this." 


54  ANYTHING  ONCE 

The  freckles  disappeared  in  a  rosy  blush  as 
with  a  red-stained  hand  she  held  out  a  bag 
of  tobacco. 

"Lou I  Why,  you — you  precious  kid!" 
Jim  stammered.  "You  worked  in  all  this  heat, 
while  I  lay  here  and  slept." 

"It  wasn't  far  back  to  New  Hartz,  an'  I'd 
seen  where  the  cigar-store  was  when  we  came 
by.  The  woman  at  the  house,  she  give  me  the 
pie,  an'  I've  got  ten  cents  left  besides.  I  never 
had  ten  cents  of  my  own  before!" 


CHAPTER  IV 

UNDER  THE  BIG  TOP 

A  VERY  weary  and  dust-covered  couple 
trudged  to  the  top  of  the  last  hill  just 
before  sundown  and  paused,  with  Lou's  hand 
instinctively  clutching  Jim's  arm. 

"Is  that  it;  the  Hudson?"  She  pointed  over 
the  fringe  of  treetops  below  them  to  the  broad, 
winding  ribbon  of  sparkling  gray-blue, 
touched  here  and  there  with  the  reflection  of 
the  fleecy  pink  clouds  drifting  far  overhead. 

Jim  turned  to  look  at  her,  wondering  what 
reaction  the  view  would  have  upon  the  emo- 
tions of  this  child  who,  until  a  brief  week  ago, 
had  known  only  the  "brick  house  with  a  high 
fence  and  a  playground  where  never  a  blade 
of  grass  grew." 

Her  big  eyes  followed  the  river's  course 

55 


56  ANYTHING  ONCE 

until  it  was  lost  in  a  creeping  mist  behind 
high  hills,  and  she  drew  a  deep  breath. 

"How  far  does  it  go?"  she  asked. 

"To  New  York;  to  the  sea,"  he  responded. 
"The  ocean,  you  know." 

"My!"  There  was  wonder  and  a  certain 
regret  in  her  tone.  "What  a  waste  of  good 
wash-water  1" 

Jim  emitted  an  inarticulate  remark,  and 
added  hastily: 

"Let  us  get  along  down  into  Highvale.  I 
must  try  to  find  a  place  for  you  to  sleep,  and 
remember,  Lou,  you're  my  sister  if  anyone 
starts  to  question  you." 

"All  right;  I  don't  mind,  if  you  don't." 
She  gave  the  floppy  hat  a  yank  that  slued  the 
ridiculous  green  bow  to  a  more  rakish  angle, 
and  then  stopped  suddenly  in  the  road. 
"O-oh,  look!" 

A  barn  had  been  built  close  up  to  the  side 
of  the  fence,  and  freshly  pasted  upon  it  was 
the  vividly  colored  poster  of  a  circus.  The 
enthusiastic  admiration  which  she  had  denied 
to  her  first  view  of  the  great  river  glowed  now 
in  Lou's  eyes,  and  she  stood  transfixed. 


57 

"What  is  it,  Jim?  The  pretty  lady  on  the 
horse  an'  the  other  one  up  on  the  swing  thing 
without — without  any  skirt  to  her,  and  the 
man  with  the  funny  pants  an'  the  big  hat  that's 
shootin' " 

"There  must  be  a  circus  in  Highvale — yes, 
the  date  says  to-night,"  Jim  replied. 

"  Trimble  &  Wells  Great  Circus  &  Side- 
show,' "  she  read  slowly.  "I  heard  about  them 
circuses;  some  of  the  children  seen  them 
before  they  came  to — to  where  I  was,  an'  once 
one  come  to  towrn  an'  sent  free  tickets  to  us, 
but  the  deaconesses  said  it  was  sinful  an'  so 
we  couldn't  go.  It  don't  look  sinful  to  me; 
it  looks  just  grand — grand!" 

She  could  have  stood  for  an  hour  drinking 
in  all  the  wonders  of  the  poster,  but  Jim 
hurried  her  on  although  he  was  filled  with 
sympathy.  Poor  little  kid!  What  a  rotten, 
black  sort  of  life  she  must  have  had,  and  how 
he  wished  that  he  might  take  her  to  this 
tawdry,  cheap  affair  and  watch  her  naive 
enjoyment. 

But  their  combined  capital  would  not  have 
covered  the  price  of  the  tickets,  and  there  was 


58  ANYTHING  ONCE 

supper  to  be  thought  of,  and  the  hazards  ol 
the  immediate  future.  For  the  present  the 
circus  must  remain  an  unattained  dream  to 
Lou. 

The  steep  little  hill  down  to  the  village 
seemed  very  long,  and  twilight  was  almost 
upon  them  when  they  came  to  a  big,  open  lot 
upon  which  a  circular  tent  was  in  process  of 
erection,  with  lesser  oblong  ones  clustered  at 
one  side. 

A  fringe  of  small  boys  and  village  loung- 
ers lined  the  roadway  watching  the  corps  of 
men  who  were  working  like  beavers  within 
the  lot,  urged  on  by  a  bawling,  cursing  voice 
which  seemed  to  proceed  from  a  stout, 
choleric  man  who  bounded  about,  alternately 
waving  his  arms  and  cupping  his  hands  to  im- 
provise a  megaphone. 

Jim  was  tired,  and  his  side  throbbed  dully, 
but  a  sudden  inspiration  came  to  him,  and  he 
drew  Lou  over  to  the  other  side  of  the  road. 

"Sit  down  here  and  wait  for  me,"  he  told 
her.  "I  won't  be  long.  That's  where  the 
circus  is  going  to  be,  and  perhaps  I  can  fix  it 
for  you  to  see  it." 


UNDER  THE  BIG  TOP          59 

Turning,  he  shouldered  his  way  through 
the  knot  of  loungers,  and  entering  the  lot,  ap- 
proached the  stout  gentleman. 

"Want  an  extra  hand?"  he  asked.  "Any- 
thing from  a  ballyhoo  to  a  rough-rider?" 

The  stout  man  wheeled  and  surveyed  him 
in  momentarily  speechless  wrath  at  the  inter- 
ruption. Then  his  eyes  narrowed  apprais- 
ingly  as  he  noted  the  tall,  lean,  well-knit  fig- 
ure before  him,  and  he  demanded: 

"How  the  h — 1  did  you  know  that  the  Wild 
West  act  was  all  knocked  to  pieces?" 

"It  isn't  now,"  Jim  smiled.  "Lend  me  a 
horse  and  a  pair  of  chaps,  and  I'll  show  you 
in  five  minutes  what's  going  to  be  your  star 
act  to-night." 

"You're  no  circus  man,  nor  a  Westerner, 
neither."  The  boss  still  stared.  "And  you 
don't  look  like  a  bum.  What's  your  game, 
anyway?" 

"To  pick  up  a  little  loose  change  and  get 
a  horse  between  my  knees  again." 

The  thought  of  the  forlorn  little  figure 
which  he  had  left  by  the  roadside  kept  Jim's 


60  ANYTHING  ONCE 

smile  steady,  and  added  a  desperate  artificial 
buoyancy  to  his  tired  tones: 

"Never  mind  who  I  am  or  where  I  came 
from;  I  can  ride,  and  that's  what  you  want, 
isn't  it?" 

There  was  an  instant's  pause,  and  then  the 
boss  bawled  a  stentorian  order  and  grabbed 
him  by  the  arm. 

"Come  on.  I'll  give  you  a  chance  to  show 
me  what  you  can  do,  but  if  you're  takin'  up  my 
time  on  a  bluff  I'll  break  every  bone  in  your 
body!" 

He  led  Jim  to  an  open  space  behind  the 
tents  where  presently  there  appeared  a  living 
convulsion  in  the  shape  of  a  bucking,  squeal- 
ing bronco  seemingly  held  down  to  earth  by 
two  sweating,  shirtless  men. 

As  Jim  surveyed  that  wickedly  lowered 
head  with  its  small  eyes  rolling  viciously,  his 
heart  misgave  him  for  a  moment.  What  if 
he  should  fail?  It  was  long  since  he  had 
practiced  those  rough-riding  stunts  that  had 
made  him  in  demand  for  those  society  circuses 
of  the  ante-bellum  days,  and  longer  yet  since 
he  had  learned  to  break  a  bronco  on  the  ranch, 


UNDER  THE  BIG  TOP          61 

which  had  been  Bill  Hollis's  hobby  for  a 
season. 

What  if  that  devil  of  a  pony  should  best 
him  in  the  struggle,  and  he  should  be  thrown 
ignominiously  from  the  lot  before  the  eyes  of 
the  girl  who  was  waiting  patiently  for  him? 

The  next  instant  he  had  vaulted  lightly  into 
the  high,  Western  saddle,  the  two  men  had 
jumped  back,  and  the  fight  was  on.  The 
bronco  lashed  out  viciously  with  his  heels, 
leaped  sidewise,  and  then,  after  a  running 
start,  attempted  to  throw  his  rider  over  his 
head,  but  Jim  clung  to  him  like  a  burr;  he 
flung  himself  down  and  rolled  over,  but  the 
young  man  jumped  clear  and  was  back  into 
the  saddle  as  the  enraged  animal  regained  his 
feet. 

The  struggle  was  strenuous  but  brief,  and 
Jim  found  himself  rejoicing  that  none  of  the 
old  tricks  had  failed  him,  and  that  the  wicked 
little  brute  was  realizing  that  he  had  at  length 
been  mastered. 

When  the  bronco  was  thoroughly  subjected, 
Jim  rode  quietly  up  to  where  fhe  boss  stood 
with  the  two  other  men. 


62  ANYTHING  ONCE 

"Want  me  to  pick  up  a  handkerchief  Tor 
you,  or  any  other  of  the  old  stunts,  now?"  he 
asked.  "Don't  want  to  tire  this  old  plug  too 
much  for  the  show." 

The  boss  chuckled. 

"Get  down  and  talk  business  with  me, 
young  feller,"  he  said.  "You  won't  ride  Jazz 
in  the  ring  to-night;  he's  the  rottenest,  most 
treacherous  little  wretch  with  the  outfit,  and 
I  only  put  you  on  him  to  call  your  bluff.  Want 
to  join  the  show?  We  had  to  leave  our  rough- 
rider  back  in  the  last  town  with  a  broken  leg." 

Jim  shook  his  head. 

"Only  for  to-night,"  he  replied.  "My  sister 
and  I  are  beating  it  South." 

"Well,  I'll  give  you  five  dollars- 

"No,  you  won't,"  Jim  smiled.  "I'll  work 
for  you  to-night  for  just  twenty-five  cents." 

"Say,  you  ain't  bughouse,  are  you?"  The 
boss  stared  again. 

"The  fourth  part  of  a  dollar,  two  bits!" 
Jim  replied  doggedly.  Then  his  gaze  wan- 
dered as  though  casually  over  to  the  cook 
tent,  and  he  added :  "However,  if  you  could 
suggest  anything  to  two  hungry  people,  and 


UNDER  THE  BIG  TOP          63 

something  else  for  a  little  girl  who  has  never 
seen  a  circus,  Mr.  Trimble-and-Wells,  and 
who  is  waiting  for  me  in  the  road " 

The  boss  roared. 

"D — d  if  I  don't  think  you're  dippy,  but 
you  certainly  can  ride  like  h — 1!"  he  ex- 
claimed. "I'll  take  you  up  on  that;  go  get 
the  kid  and  bring  her  in  to  supper,  and  I'll 
see  that  she  gets  a  reserved  seat  for  the  show. 
Holy  smoke!  A  feller  that  can  stick  on 
Jazz,  and  wants  to  work  for  a  quarter!" 

Thus  it  was  that  when  the  clown  came 
tumbling  into  the  ring  to  the  blaring  of  the 
band  that  night,  a  girl  with  the  green  bow  all 
askew  upon  her  hat  and  her  violet-blue  eyes 
a  shade  darker  and  snapping  with  excitement 
was  perched  on  one  of  the  front  row  planks 
which  served  as  seats,  clutching  a  bag  of  pea- 
nuts and  waiting  in  an  ecstasy  for  the  wonders 
about  to  be  unfolded. 

The  ride  in  the  pedler's  van,  the  hours  of 
currant-picking,  and  the  hot,  hilly,  eight-mile 
trudge  were  forgotten,  and  she  felt  like  pinch- 
ing herself  to  see  if  she  would  wake  up  all  of 


64  ANYTHING  ONCE 

a  sudden  to  find  herself  once  more  back  in 
the  attic  at  the  Hess  farm. 

The  beautiful  lady  with  the  fluffy  skirts 
rode  round  the  ring  on  tiptoe  and  jumped 
through  the  flaming  hoops  at  the  behest  of  the 
gentleman  with  the  high  silk  hat  and  the  long 
whip;  the  other  lady  "without  any  skirt  to 
her"  flew  dizzily  through  the  air  from  one 
trapeze  to  the  other,  and  the  performing  ele- 
phant went  through  his  time-worn  tricks  with 
the  air  of  a  resigned  philosopher,  and  still 
Lou  sat  entranced. 

Then  the  dingy  curtains  parted,  and  a  man 
loped  easily  into  the  ring  on  a  wiry,  little 
Western  horse.  He  was  the  same  man  she 
had  seen  in  the  poster  that  afternoon;  the  one 
with  the  funny  pants  and  the  big  hat  and  the 
red  handkerchief  knotted  around  his  throat, 
and  he  proceeded  to  do  marvelous  things. 

It  is  highly  probable  that  many  a  better  ex- 
hibition of  rough-riding  had  been  given  be- 
neath the  big  top,  but  to  Lou,  as  to  the  vil- 
lagers surrounding  her  in  densely  packed 
rows,  it  was  a  supreme  display  of  horseman- 
ship, and  they  expressed  themselves  with 


UNDER  THE  BIG  TOP          65 

vociferous  applause  when  he  uncoiled  a  rope 
from  the  peak  of  his  saddle  and  dexterously 
brought  down  the  bewildered  steer  which  had 
been  chivvied  into  the  ring. 

In  the  row  directly  in  front  of  Lou  sat  a 
quartet  who  were  obviously  out  of  place 
among  their  bucolic  neighbors,  but  as  obvi- 
ously bent  on  amusing  themselves.  The  ladies 
of  the  party  wore  brilliant  sweaters  beneath 
their  long  silk  motor  coats,  and  veils  floated 
from  their  small  round  hats,  and  the  gentle- 
men wore  long  coats,  too,  and  had  goggles 
pushed  up  on  their  caps. 

Bits  of  their  chatter,  and  low-voiced,  well- 
bred  laughter  drifted  back  to  the  girl's  ears 
between  pauses  in  the  louder  comments  of  her 
immediate  neighbors  and  the  intermittent  din 
of  the  band,  and  Lou  was  amazed. 

Could  it  be  that  they  were  laughing  at  this 
glorious,  wonderful  thing  that  was  called  a 
"circus?"  Were  they  ridiculing  it,  trying  to 
pretend  that  they  had  seen  anything  more 
marvelous  in  all  the  world? 

They  didn't  laugh  at  the  rough-rider,  she 
noticed.  The  ladies  applauded  daintily,  and 


66  ANYTHING  ONCE 

once  the  stouter  of  the  two  gentlemen  called 
out:  "Good  work!"  as  the  rider  executed  a 
seemingly  daring  feat,  and  the  other  gentle- 
man consulted  his  flimsy  play  bill. 

Then  all  thought  of  the  four  was  banished 
from  Lou's  mind,  for  the  rider  had  cantered 
from  the  ring  and  dropped  a  large  white 
handkerchief  upon  the  sawdust  of  the  outer 
circle  just  before  her.  Wasn't  that  bit  of  color 
in  a  corner  of  a  handkerchief  an  American 
flag?  Jim  had  told  her  that  he  was  to  do  some 
work  outside  for  the  circus  people  that  night, 
and  the  boss  had  kindly  offered  her  a  seat,  but 
that  handkerchief 

Suddenly  the  rider  swept  by  with  his  horse 
at  a  dead  run,  and  swooping  down,  seized  the 
square  of  white  in  his  teeth,  and  while  the  tent 
rang  with  applause,  Lou  sat  very  still.  It  was 
Jim!  It  was  he,  her  "partner,"  whom  the 
people  were  all  clapping  their  hands  at,  who 
was  doing  all  these  wonderful  things!  But 
his  face  had  looked  somewhat  pale  beneath 
that  big  hat,  and  his  smile  sort  of  fixed. 

The  bandage  was  gone  from  his  head,  and 
the  plaster  which  had  replaced  it  was  hidden, 


UNDER  THE  BIG  TOP          67 

but  she  could  not  have  been  mistaken.  What 
if  he  were  suffering,  if  his  back  and  side  were 
paining  him  again?  She  recalled  the  exhaus- 
tion with  which  he  had  slept  at  noontime,  and 
the  long,  weary  hike  that  followed  it,  and 
her  heart  contracted  within  her.  It  was  for 
her  that  he  was  doing  this,  so  that  she  might 
see  the  show! 

One  of  the  ladies  in  the  seats  before  her 
leaned  forward  and  exclaimed: 

"Didn't  he  look  like  Jimmie  Abbott?  If 
we  didn't  know  that  he  was  on  a  fishing  trip 
up  in  Canada " 

Lou  did  not  catch  the  rest  of  the  remark. 
Her  eyes  were  glued  upon  the  rider  and  her 
ears  stilled  to  everything  around  her.  With 
a  final  flourish  he  dashed  for  the  dingy  cur- 
tain at  the  exit  and  it  parted  to  let  him  pass. 
It  did  not  close  quickly  enough  behind  him, 
however;  not  quickly  enough  to  conceal  from 
the  gaping  audience  his  lurching  fall  from 
the  saddle  into  the  group  of  acrobats  waiting 
to  come  on  in  their  turn. 

Then  it  was  that  a  small,  pink-checked  cy- 
clone whirled  through  the  rows  of  closely 


68  ANYTHING  ONCE 

packed  humanity  and  half-way  round  the 
arena  to  the  curtain,  while  above  the  clamor 
of  the  band  arose  a  shrill  cry;  "Jiml  Jim!" 

"Did  you  see  her?"  The  lady  who  had 
commented  upon  the  rider's  appearance  de- 
manded of  the  gentleman  beside  her.  "She 
called  him  Jim,  too;  isn't  that  odd?  Do  you 
suppose,  Jack,  that  she  is  with  the  circus;  that 
little  country  girl?" 

"Oh,  it  was  only  part  of  the  show,"  the 
stout  gentleman  replied  in  a  bored  tone.  "Or 
else  the  chap  was  tight.  He  certainly  rode  as 
if  he  had  some  red-eye  tucked  under  his  belt; 
wonder  where  he  got  it  around  here?" 


CHAPTER  V 


THERE  was  a  confused  babel  of  sound  in 
Jim's  ears  when  he  awoke  Wednesday 
morning;  hammering  and  clanging  and  the 
squeak  of  ropes,  shouting  and  cursing,  and 
now  and  then  the  roar  or  yell  of  some  protest- 
ing animal. 

He  was  lying  on  a  narrow  bunk  in  a  tent, 
and  opposite  him  a  husky-looking  individual 
was  climbing  into  a  pair  of  checked  trousers 
and  yawning  vociferously. 

Jim's  head  ached  confoundedly,  and  he  was 
stiff  and  sore,  but  his  mind  cleared  rapidly 
from  the  mists  of  slumber.  What  sort  of  a 
place  was  this,  and  how  had  he  got  there? 
Then  all  at  once  he  remembered,  and  there 
came  a  horrifying  thought.  What  had  be- 
come of  Lou? 

"Where's  Lou?  M — my  sister?"  he  de- 
manded, sitting  bolt  upright. 


70  ANYTHING  ONCE 

"Hello,  there!  Come  out  of  it  all  right, 
did  you?"  The  occupant  of  the  tent  hitched 
a  suspender  over  one  shoulder  and  grinned 
cheerfully.  "The  kid's  took  care  of!  She's 
with  Ma  Billings.  That  was  a  nasty  header 
you  took  last  night.  O.  K.  now7?  We  gotter 
pull  out  in  an  hour." 

"Oh,  I'm  all  right;  but  say,  did  I  pull  that 
bonehead  stuff  out  there  before  all  of  them?" 
Jim  reddened  beneath  his  tan  at  the  thought. 
"Fall  off  the  horse  like  that,  I  mean?" 

"In  the  ring?  No,  you  made  a  grand  exit, 
and  then  slumped;  nobody  saw  it  but  the  little 
girl,  and  she  beat  it  right  down  to  the  ring 
and  out  after  you.  Fit  like  a  wildcat,  too, 
when  we  tried  to  keep  her  away  from  you  till 
we  could  find  out  what  had  struck  you."  The 
other  grinned  once  more. 

"Some  sister,  ol'-timer!  When  we  found 
that  big  muscle  bruise  on  your  side,  and  she 
told  us  that  you  had  been  tossed  by  a  bull  a 
couple  of  days  ago,  we  didn't  wonder  you 
keeled  over." 

Jim  sat  up  dizzily. 

"It  was  mighty  good  of  you  people  to  take 


CONCERNING  AN  OMELET     71 

us  in  for  the  night,"  he  said.  "Who  is  Ma 
Billings?" 

"Marie  LaBelle  she  used  to  be;  worked  up 
on  the  flyin'  rings  until  she  got  too  hefty,"  his 
companion  explained.  "Now  she  takes  care 
of  the  wardrobes  and  sort  of  looks  out  that  the 
Human  Doll  don't  get  lost  in  the  shuffle;  the 
midget,  you  know.  Now  peel,  and  I'll  give 
you  a  rub-down  with  some  liniment." 

Jim  tried  to  protest,  but  the  husky  indi- 
vidual only  grinned  the  broader. 

"You  may  be  some  boy  when  it  comes  to 
bronco-bustin',  but  I'm  the  Strong  Man  in  the 
side-show,  and  you  haven't  a  chance." 

Meekly  Jim  submitted  to  his  compan- 
ion's kindly  ministrations,  and  then  dressing 
quickly,  made  his  way  out  into  the  glare  of  the 
early  morning  sun. 

The  big  top  was  down,  and  poles  and  ani- 
mal cages  were  being  loaded  on  long  trucks  as 
he  emerged.  An  appetizing  odor  of  fried 
pork  floated  upon  the  air  from  the  direction 
of  the  cook-tent,  and  people  seemed  to  be  rush- 
ing all  over  the  lot  in  wildest  confusion,  but 
Jim  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  bit  of  pink-and- 


72  ANYTHING  ONCE 

white  check  through  the  melee,  and  headed 
for  it. 

Lou  was  sitting  on  the  grass  in  cordial  con- 
fab with  a  melancholy-looking,  lantern- jawed 
man,  but  at  his  approach  she  jumped  up  pre- 
cipitately and  ran  to  him. 

"Oh,  Jim,  you  feelin'  all  right?"  There 
was  a  little  tremble  in  her  voice.  "I  knew  it 
was  you  the  minute  you  rode  past  an'  picked 
up  that  handkerchief  Mr.  Perkins  give  you 
yesterday,  an'  when  you  pitched  off  that  horse 
I  thought  you  was  dead.  You  hadn't  no  call 
to  take  any  chance  like  that  with  your  back 
hurt  an'  that  long  tramp  an'  all;  but  it  was 
splendid." 

She  paused,  breathless,  and  he  patted  her 
shoulder.  Somehow  she  didn't  look  so  down- 
right homely  this  morning,  or  else  he  was 
growing  used  to  her  little,  turned-up  nose. 
Her  tow-colored  hair  was  looser  about  her 
face,  and  where  the  sun  struck  a  strand  of  it,, 
it  shone  like  spun  gold. 

"I'm  fine,"  he  assured  her.  "But  who  was 
that  man  you  were  talking  to  just  now?" 

"Him?    Oh,  that  was  the  clown,"  Lou  re- 


CONCERNING  AN  OMELET     73 

plied.  "He  says  the  old  man  is  just  crazy 
'bout  your  ridin',  an'  if  you'll  stay  along  with 
the  show  he  can  teach  me  to  stand  still  for  the 
knife- thrower;  the  last  girl  got  scared,  an' 
quit  just  because  she  got  a  little  scratch  on  the 
neck.  The  clown  says  I  got  the  nerve  for  it, 
an'  I  guess  I  have,  only  they  ain't  goin'  to- 
wards New  York." 

She  added  the  last  almost  reluctantly,  and 
Jim  shuddered.  The  knife-thrower!  What 
wouldn't  the  little  dare-devil  be  willing  to 
try  next? 

"I  guess  you  have  got  the  nerve,"  he  ad- 
mitted grimly.  "But  we're  going  to  be  in 
New  York  by  Saturday  night,  remember.  As 
soon  as  I  get  my  quarter  from  the  stout  gentle- 
man over  there  with  the  striped  vest,  we'll  be 
on  our  way." 

But  it  was  nearly  an  hour  before  they  took 
to  the  road  again.  The  boss  insisted  on  start- 
ing them  off  with  a  hearty  breakfast,  and  there 
were  good-bys  to  be  said  to  the  rough,  kindly 
folk  who  had  taken  them  in  as  friends.  Ex- 
cept for  the  litter  of  hand-bills  and  peanut- 
shells,  the  last  vestiges  of  the  circus  were 


74  ANYTHING  ONCE 

being  removed  from  the  lot  as  they  finally  de- 
parted, and  what  had  been  to  Lou  a  wondrous, 
glittering  pageant  had  become  but  a  memory. 

"I  dunno  but  I'd  as  lief  join  a  circus,"  she 
observed,  meditatively,  after  they  had  traveled 
a  mile  or  more.  "Maybe  I  could  learn  in  New 
York  how  to  do  some  of  them  tricks.  I  could 
git  the  hang  of  that  business  up  on  them 
swings  in  no  time,  only  I  don't  like  the  way 
that  girl  dressed " 

"Nonsense!"  Jim  snapped,  and  wondered  at 
his  own  indignation.  "We'll  find  something 
suitable  for  you  to  do,  or  you  can  go  to 
school " 

"School!"  she  interrupted  him  in  her  turn. 
"I — I'd  like  to  learn  things  an'  be  like  other 
folks,  but  I  ain't — I  mean  I'm  not — goin'  to 
any  institootion." 

He  glanced  at  her  curiously.  This  was  the 
first  time  she  had  made  any  conscious  effort 
to  correct  herself,  the  first  evidence  she  had 
given  that  she  had  noted  the  difference  be- 
tween his  speech  and  hers. 

"I  didn't  mean  an  institution,  but  a  real 
school,  Lou,"  he  explained  gently.  "One 


CONCERNING  AN  OMELET     75 

where  you'll  have  no  uniform  to  wear,  and  no 
work  to  do  except  to  learn." 

"I  quit  learnin'  when  I  was  twelve."  There 
was  an  unconscious^ote  of  wistfulness  in  her 
tones.  "I  kin  read  an'  do  a  little  figgerin', 
but  I  don't  know  much  of  anythin'  else.  I 
couldn't  go  to  school  an'  begin  again  where  I 
left  off,  Jim;  I'd  be  sort  of  ashamed.  Oh, 
look  at  that  big  wagon  drivin'  out  of  that 
gate!  Maybe  we'll  git  a  lift." 

She  had  turned  at  the  creak  of  wheels,  and 
now,  as  the  cart  loaded  with  crates  and 
pulled  by  two  lean,  sorry-looking  horses 
passed,  she  gazed  expectantly  at  the  driver. 
He  was  as  lean  as  his  team,  with  a  sharp  nose 
and  a  tuft  of  gray  hair  sticking  out  from  his 
chin,  and  his  close-set  eyes  straight  ahead  of 
him,  as  though  he  were  determined  not  to  see 
to  the  two  wayfarers. 

"He  looks  kinder  mean,  don't  he?"  Lou  re- 
marked. Then  impusively  she  ran  after  the 
wagon :  "Say,  mister,  will  you  give  us  a  lift?" 

The  old  man  pulled  in  his  horses  and  re- 
garded her  sourly. 

"What'll  you  pay?"  he  demanded. 


76  ANYTHING  ONCE 

"What's  in  them  crates,"  she  parried. 

"Eggs."  The  response  was  laconic.  "What 
you  gittin'  at,  sis?" 

"Who  unloads  them  when  you  git  to  where 
you're  goin'?"  Lou  persisted. 

"At  the  Riverburgh  dock?  I  do,  unless  I'm 
late,  an'  then  I  have  to  give  a  couple  o'  them 
loafers  around  there  a  quarter  apiece  to  help. 
I'm  late  to-day,  an'  if  you  ain't  got  any  money 
to  ride —  Giddap!" 

But  Lou  halted  him  determinedly. 

"If  you'll  give  me  and  Jim — I  mean  my 
brother — a  ride,  he'll  unload  the  crates  for 
you  for  nothin'  when  we  git  there.  You'll 
be  savin'  fifty  cents,  and  the  ride  won't  cost 
you  nothin'." 

"Well" — the  old  man  considered  for  a 
moment — "I'll  do  it,  if  it's  only  to  spite  them 
fellers  that's  allus  hangin'  'round  the  docks. 
Reg'lar  robbers,  they  be.  Quarter  apiece,  an' 
chicken-feed  gone  up  the  way't  is.  Git  in." 

Jim  had  overtaken  the  wagon  in  time  to 
hear  the  end  of  the  brief  conversation,  and  he 
wasted  no  further  time  in  parley,  but  hoisted 


CONCERNING  AN  OMELET     77 

Lou  up  over  the  wheel  and  climbed  in  beside 
her. 

As  the  reluctant  horses  started  off  once 
more  the  driver  turned  to  him : 

"Hope  you're  a  hustler,  young  man;  got  to 
git  them  eggs  off  the  wagon  in  a  jiffy  when 
we  git  to  Riverburgh,  in  time  to  ketch  the 
boat.  Don't  you  try  no  scuttlin'  off  on  me 
after  I  give  you  the  ride;  Riverburgh's  a 
reg'lar  city,  an'  they's  a  policeman  on  the 
docks." 

"I'll  keep  the  bargain  my  sister  made  for 
ne,"  Jim  answered  shortly.  He  had  observed 
the  poultry-farm  from  which  the  old  man  had 
started,  with  its  miserable  little  hovel  of  a 
house  and  immense  spread  of  chicken-runs, 
and  drawn  his  own  conclusions  as  to  the  char- 
acter of  its  owner.  "You  needn't  be  afraid  I'll 
shirk." 

"Well,"  grumbled  the  other,  "I  don't  hold 
with  pickin'  up  tramps  in  the  road,  but  I'm 
sick  of  handin'  out  good  money  to  them 
loafers  at  the  dock  to  unload,  an'  I  ain't  got  a 
hired  man  to  take  along  no  more;  they're  allus 
lazy,  good-for-nothin'  fellers  that  eat  more  'n 


78  ANYTHING  ONCE 

they  work  out,  let  alone  their  wages  goin'  sky- 
hootin'!" 

"But  you  must  be  making  a  handsome 
profit,  with  the  price  of  eggs  going  up,  too,  all 
the  time,"  Jim  remarked. 

The  old  man  gave  him  a  sly  glance. 

"That's  how  you  look  at  it,"  he  replied. 
"They  oughter  go  up  twice  the  price  they  be. 
My  wife's  doin'  the  hired  man's  work  now, 
an'  she's  allus  pesterin'  me  to  git  an  incubator, 
but  them  things  cost  a  powerful  sight  of 
money,  an'  I  don't  hold  with  new-fangled  no- 
tions ;  too  much  resk  to  them.  You  can  allus 
sell  hens  when  they  git  too  old  to  set  or  lay, 
but  what' re  you  going  to  do  with  a  wro re-out 
incubator?" 

He  cackled  shrilly  at  his  own  witticism  and 
then  grew  morose  again.  "The  way  things  is, 
there  ain't  no  profit  skeercely  in  nothin'." 

They  jogged  along  drowsily  through  the 
slumberous  heat,  while  the  old  man  continued 
his  harangue  against  the  cost  of  everything 
except  his  own  commodity,  and  the  underfed 
horses  strained  to  drag  their  burden  over  the 
hilly  road.  The  mountains  had  been  left  be- 


CONCERNING  AN  OMELET     79 

hind,  and  all  over  the  rolling  hillsides  about 
them  on  either  hand  the  vineyards  stretched 
in  undulating  lines,  each  heavy  with  the  load 
of  purpling  grapes. 

Mile  after  mile  passed  slowly  beneath  the 
creaking  wheels  of  the  wagon;  noon  came, 
and  still  Riverburgh  remained  tantalizingly 
ahead.  At  last,  on  the  rise  of  a  hill,  the  old 
man  pulled  up  and  pointed  with  his  whip  to 
the  spreading  sweep  of  brick  buildings  front- 
ing on  the  river's  edge  below. 

"There's  the  town,"  he  announced,  adding, 
with  a  touch  of  regret:  "We're  ahead  of 
time,  after  all,  an'  I  could  have  unloaded  by 
myself.  Well,  it  don't  matter  noways  except 
for  the  extra  drag  on  the  horses.  Giddap!" 

"There's — there's  an  ottermobile  comin'  up 
behind,"  Lou  ventured.  "They  been  tootin* 
at  you  for  some  time,  mister." 

"Let  'em,"  the  old  man  cackled  shrilly  once 
more.  "I've  been  drivin'  on  these  roads  afore 
them  things  was  heard  of,  an'  I  don't  calc'hte 
to  turn  out  for  Jem." 

The  warning  of  the  siren  sounded  again  dis- 
turbingly close,  and  the  rush  of  the  oncoming 


80  ANYTHING  ONCE 

car  could  be  plainly  heard.  Jim  glanced  at 
the  old  man,  and,  noting  the  stubborn  set  of 
his  jaw,  said  nothing;  but  Lou  spoke  again, 
and  her  voice  held  no  note  of  alarm,  but 
rather  indignation  at  the  obvious  lack  of  fair 
play. 

"But  they  got  a  right;  you're  on  their  side 
of  the  road,"  she  exclaimed.  "If  you'd  give 
them  their  half,  mister,  they  could  pass  easy." 

"Don't  calc-late  to  let  'em,"  he  responded 
obstinately.  "Ain't  goin'  to  take  their  dust  if 
I  kin  help  it." 

Deliberately  he  tugged  on  the  left  reins  and 
headed  the  team  straight  across  the  road.  Lou 
gave  a  quick  glance  over  the  side  of  the 
wagon  and  behind,  and  then  gripped  Jim's 
arm.  He  turned  and  caught  one  glimpse  of 
her  set  face,  and  then  with  a  roar  and  a  grind- 
ing crash  they  both  felt  themselves  lifted  into 
the  air  and  landed  in  some  golden,  slimy  fluid 
in  the  ditch. 

"Lou,  are  you  hurt?"  Jim  tried  to  wipe  the 
clinging  stuff  from  his  eyes  and  ears  with  his 
sleeve.  "Where  are  you?" 

The  rapidly  diminishing  clatter  of  horses'- 


hoofs  down  the  hill,  and  the  old  man's  vigor- 
ously roared  recriminations  assured  him  of 
the  safety  of  the  rest  of  the  entourage  even 
before  Lou  replied. 

"Not  hurt  a  mite,  but  I'm  laughinM"  she 
exclaimed  breathlessly.  "Oh,  Jim,  you — you 
should  have  seen  it.  That  ottermobile  hit 
square  in  the  middle  of  the  wagon,  and  there 
ain't — isn't — a  single  egg " 

"Here,  you!"  the  old  man,  dripping  from 
head  to  foot  with  the  golden  slime,  rushed  up 
and  tugged  excitedly  at  Jim's  arm.  "Come 
on  an'  help  me  to  ketch  them  horses !  What'd 
I  bring  you  along  for?  Let  the  girl  be,  I 
don't  ker  if  her  neck's  broke!  I  got  to  lodge 
a  complaint  against  them  rascals,  an'  have  'em 
stopped!  You're  my  witnesses  that  they  run 
into  me,  an'  I'll  make  'em  pay  a  pretty 


penny — 

"I  care  whether  my  sister's  neck  is  broken 
or  not!"  Jim  retorted  grimly.  "Go  after  your 
own  horses.  I  engaged  to  unload  eggs,  and  it 
looks  as  if  the  job  was  finished.  Lou,  are  you 
sure  you're  all  right?" 


82  ANYTHING  ONCE 

The  old  man  danced  up  and  down  in  the 
road,  spattering  flecks  of  egg  about  him. 

"We'll  see  about  that,"  he  shrilled.  "You 
come  along  with  me!  You're  my  wit- 
nesses  " 

"We'll  be  your  witnesses  that  you  were  on 
the  wrong  side  of  the  road,  and  knew  it," 
Jim  helped  Lou  to  her  feet.  "They  warned 
you,  and  you  wouldn't  turn  out." 

With  an  outburst  of  inarticulate  rage  the 
old  man  dashed  off  down  the  road,  and  Lou, 
helpless  with  laughter,  clung  to  Jim's  slippery 
sleeve. 

"Don't  mind  him,"  she  gasped.  "Old  skin- 
flint! Oh,  Jim,  you  1-look  like  an  omelet." 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  RED  NOTE- BOOK 

TT^OR  a  moment  Jim  laughed  with  her;  then 
A  the  seriousness  of  their  situation  was 
borne  in  upon  him,  and  his  face  sobered. 

"It's  the  kind  of  an  omelet  that  won't  come 
off  in  a  hurry,  I'm  afraid,"  he  said.  "How 
on  earth  are  we  going  to  walk  into  River- 
burgh  like  this?" 

It  was  the  first  time  that  he  had  appealed 
to  her,  and  Lou's  laughter  ceased  also,  but  her 
cheerful  confidence  did  not  fail  her. 

"We  gotter  find  some  place  where  we  can 
git  cleaned  up,  that's  all,"  she  replied  prac- 
tically. "Most  anybody  would  let  you  do 
that,  I  guess,  if  you  told  them  what  happened, 
an'  if  you  can't  ask — why,  I  kin.  Anybody 
'cept  a  mean  old  thing  like  that!  I  s'pose  I 
ought  to  be  sorry  that  his  wagon's  broke  an' 
his  eggs  are  all  over  us  instead  of  where  they 

83 


84  ANYTHING  ONCE 

was  goin',  but  I'm  not  a  mite.  Long's  he 
wasn't  hurt,  I'm  kinder  glad." 

"Still,  those  people  in  the  car  ought  to  have 
stopped  to  see  the  extent  of  the  damage  they 
had  done,  even  if  they  did  have  the  right-of- 
way,"  Jim  observed.  "The  old  fellow  had 
his  grievance,  but  he  got  my  goat  when  he  said 
he  didn't  care  if  your  neck  was  broken  or 
not,  and  I  wouldn't  have  helped  him  if  I 
could." 

"'Goat'?"  Lou  repeated. 

Jim  had  no  opportunity  to  explain,  for  at 
that  moment  a  woman  in  a  faded  gingham 
gown  toiled  hurriedly  over  the  brow  of  the 
hill,  and,  on  seeing  them,  stopped,  with  one 
hand  at  her  breast. 

"Oh!"  she  gasped.  "There's  wasn't  anyone 
hurt,  was  there?  I  saw  the  accident  from  my 
porch,  and  I  came  just  as  quick  as  I  could." 

Jim  explained,  and  the  woman  listened, 
wide-eyed. 

"You  both  come  straight  along  with  me," 
she  invited  when  he  had  finished.  "I'll  lend 
you  some  overalls,  and  you  and  the  little  girl 
can  just  sit  around  while  your  clothes  dry." 


THE  RED  NOTE-BOOK          85 

She  led  the  way  back  to  a  tiny  but  very  neat 
cottage,  with  flowers  blooming  in  the  door- 
yard  and  a  well-tended  truck-garden  in  the 
rear.  Broad  hay-fields  stretched  on  either 
side,  but  only  two  little  boys  were  visible,  toss- 
ing the  hay  awkwardly  with  pitchforks  almost 
bigger  than  they  were  themselves. 

The  woman  left  them  standing  for  a  minute 
on  the  back  porch,  and  then  came  out  to  them, 
bearing  a  cake  of  soap,  a  towel,  and  a  pair  of 
overalls  and  shirt,  which,  although  immacu- 
lately clean,  bore  many  patches  and  darns, 
and  were  deeply  creased,  as  though  they  had 
been  laid  away  a  long  time. 

"Take  these  down  to  the  barn."  She  handed 
them  to  Jim.  "You'll  find  a  spigot  there,  and 
cold  water's  best  for  egg-stains.  I  left  some 
rags  in  the  empty  box-stall  that  you  can  use 
to  clean  your  shoes,  and  then,  if  you'll  give  me 
your  clothes  that  you've  got  on  now,  I'll  soak 
them  and  get  them  out  while  the  sun's  high; 
corduroy  takes  a  long  time  to  dry." 

When  Jim  had  expressed  his  gratitude  and 
departed  for  the  barn,  the  woman  led  Lou 
into  the  kitchen,  and,  providing  her  also  with 


86  ANYTHING  ONCE 

clean  garments,  she  dragged  a  wash-tub  out 
on  the  porch. 

"I — if  you'll  let  me,  I'd  like  to  wash  my 
own  things  and  Jim's."  Lou  appeared  shyly 
in  the  door  in  a  gown  several  sizes  too  large 
for  her.  "He'd  like  it,  too,  I  think,  and  he 
can  help  with  the  hayin'  till  the  things  git 
dried  out  enough,  so's  we  kin  go  on." 

"Oh,  would  he?"  the  woman  asked  quickly. 
"I'd  pay  him  well  if  he's  looking  for  work; 
I  can't  get  any  hands,  though  I've  tried,  and 
the  hay  is  rotting  for  want  of  being  turned.  I 
didn't  think  I'd  seen  you  two  around  here 
before,  but  I've  known  old  Mr.  Weeble 
always." 

"You  mean  that — that  with  the  egg- 
wagon?  He  was  givin'  us  a  lift  into  River- 
burgh;  we're  just  traveling  through,"  Lou 
added  shortly. 

"Did  he  pick  you  up  back  near  his  place?" 
At  Lou's  nod  the  woman  exclaimed :  "Then 
you  two  haven't  had  a  bite  of  dinner!  You 
put  your  things  to  soak  and  I'll  go  right  in 
the  house  and  get  you  up  a  little  something; 
it's  past  two." 


THE  RED  NOTE-BOOK          87 

Lou  started  to  protest,  but  the  woman  dis- 
appeared into  the  kitchen,  and  Jim  appeared 
from  the  barn.  He  was  attired  in  a  shirt 
which  strained  at  his  broad  shoulders,  and 
overalls  which  barely  reached  his  shoe-tops. 

The  girl  noticed  something  else  also  as  he 
turned  for  a  moment  to  look  toward  the  field 
where  the  little  boys  were  so  valiantly  at 
work;  a  red-leather  note-book,  which  she  had 
never  known  that  he  carried,  bulged  now 
from  the  all  too  small  overall-pocket. 

"You  can  bet  I'll  pitch  hay  for  her  till  sun- 
down," he  declared,  when  Lou  had  explained 
the  situation  to  him.  He  dropped  beside  the 
tub  the  bundle  of  egg-soaked  clothing  which 
he  carried,  and  added:  "It  is  mighty  good  of 
her  to  do  all  this  for  us,  isn't  it?  I  tell  you, 
Lou,  the  credit  side  of  the  list  is  going  up 
even  if  it  did  have  a  bit  of  a  jolt  this  morning, 
and  you're  the  biggest  item  on  it." 

This  speech  was  wholly  unintelligible  to 
the  girl,  but  she  bent  over  the  tub  without 
reply,  and  Jim  went  on  hurriedly,  aware  that 
he  had  made  a  slip  of  some  sort. 


88  ANYTHING  ONCE 

"I  wonder  where  all  the  men  of  the  family 
are?  She  can't  get  any  hands— 

"There  are  all  the  men  of  the  family."  The 
woman  had  reappeared  in  time  to  catch  his 
last  remark,  and  she  pointed  out  toward  the 
two  small  toilers  with  a  faint  smile.  "There 
was  another,  their  father — my  son — but  he 
died;  so  we're  doin'  the  best  we  can  by  our- 
selves. But  there's  a  little  bite  ready  for  you 
on  the  end  of  the  kitchen-table,  and  it's  get- 
ting cold." 

The  food  tasted  good,  and  the  little  red 
cloth  beneath  the  dishes  was  clean,  but  the 
signs  of  carefully  concealed  poverty  were 
everywhere  visible  to  Jim's  eyes,  and  he  sus- 
pected another  reason  for  the  lack  of  farm- 
hands than  scarcity  of  labor.  He  hurried 
through  his  meal,  and  went  at  once  to  the 
hay-field,  while  Lou,  after  insisting  on  clear- 
ing the  dishes  away,  went  back  to  the  wash- 
tub,  and  their  hostess  returned  to  her  own  be- 
lated ironing. 

Upon  the  girl's  usually  serene  brow  there 
was  a  frown  of  perplexity  as  she  worked,  and 
her  thoughts  were  far  afield,  for  in  that  back- 


THE  RED  NOTE-BOOK          89 

ward  glance  which  she  had  given  from  the 
egg-wagon  to  the  approaching  car  just  before 
the  crash  came  she  had  recognized  in  its  occu- 
pants the  quartet  who  sat  in  front  of  her  at 
the  circus  the  previous  evening.  The  ladies 
were  closely  swathed  in  their  veils,  but  she  re- 
membered the  distinctive  plaids  of  their  silk 
coats,  and  the  stout  gentleman  who  sat  be- 
tween them  in  the  tonneau,  with  goggles  and 
hat  snatched  off  in  the  excitement  of  the  im- 
pending smash-up,  was  unmistakably  the  one 
who  had  called  out  "Good  work!"  wrhen  Jim 
was  performing  on  the  horse. 

The  other  gentleman  who  had  made  up  the 
quartet  was  the  one  who  drove  the  car,  and 
her  quick  glance  showed  her  that  he  was  even 
then  trying  to  avoid  the  crash. 

The  details  had  been  photographed  upon 
her  brain  with  instantaneous  clarity,  but  it 
was  not  with  these  that  her  thoughts  were 
busied;  the  remark  which  the  younger  lady 
had  made  at  the  circus  just  before  Jim  rode 
toward  the  exit-flap  of  the  curtain  had  re- 
turned and  could  not  be  banished  from  her 
mind: 


90  ANYTHING  ONCE 

"Didn't  he  look  like  Jimmie  Abbott?" 

Her  companion  had  told  the  girl  that  his 
name  was  Botts,  but  beyond  that,  and  the  fact 
that  he  was  on  the  way  to  New  York,  he  had 
vouchsafed  no  further  information  about 
himself,  nor  had  Lou  asked.  She  could  not 
understand  why  his  journey  was  hedged  about 
with  so  many  silly  rules,  nor  why  he  chose  to 
obey  them;  that  was  his  affair,  and  he  was 
just  a  part  of  this  wonderful  adventure  which 
had  started  with  her  departure  from  the  Hess 
farm. 

Yet  away  down  in  her  heart  was  a  little 
hurt  feeling  for  which  she  could  not  have 
assigned  a  cause  even  to  herself.  Of  course 
she  trusted  him,  and  he  would  not  have  lied 
to  her,  but  could  there  really  be  another 
"Jim"  in  the  world  who  looked  quite  like  him, 
and  whose  name  was  so  nearly  the  same? 

She  had  sensed  instinctively,  and  the  more 
clearly  perhaps  because  of  her  lack  of  worldly 
experience,  that  he  was  different,  not  onlyi 
from  herself,  but  from  all  whom  they  had 
encountered  upon  their  journey,  yet  could  he 


THE  RED  NOTE-BOOK          91 

really  be  that  grand  young  lady's  "Jimmie," 
after  all? 

As  she  stepped  aside  to  lift  the  basket  into 
which  the  sodden  garments  had  fallen  from 
the  wringer,  her  foot  chanced  to  crunch  upon 
something  that  yielded  with  a  crisp  rustle, 
and  she  glanced  down.  It  was  the  little  red 
note-book  which  she  had  seen  in  Jim's  overall- 
pocket  when  he  came  from  the  barn;  it  must 
have  fallen  out  as  he  crossed  the  porch  to  go 
to  the  hay-field. 

It  had  opened,  and  the  front  cover  was 
pressed  back,  with  the  stamp  of  her  heel, 
showing  plainly  upon  the  first  page,  and  as 
she  stooped  slowly  and  picked  it  up  Lou 
could  not  help  reading  the  three  words  which 
were  written  across  it  in  a  bold,  characteristic 
hand: 

JAMES  TARRISFORD  ABBOTT 

There  was  something  else,  an  address,  no 
doubt,  written  below,  but  Lou  closed  the  book 
quickly  and  dropped  it  upon  a  near-by  bench, 
as  though  it  burned  her  fingers.  For  a  mo- 


92  ANYTHING  ONCE 

ment  she  stood  very  still  with  her  eyes  closed 
and  her  little  water-shriveled  hands  tightly  in- 
terlocked, and  in  that  instant  of  time  the 
happy,  careless  co-adventurer  of  the  last  two 
marvelous  days  vanished,  and  in  his  place 
there  appeared  a  stranger,  a  man  of  the  world, 
in  which  that  young  lady  of  the  motor-car 
moved. 

For  the  first  time  in  Lou's  life  a  panic 
seized  her,  a  desperate  longing  to  run  away. 
She  opened  her  eyes  and  looked  across  the 
hay-fields  to  where  that  tall,  stalwart  figure 
worked  beside  the  two  smaller  ones.  Even 
from  that  distance  he  looked  different,  some- 
how; he  wasn't  the  same  Jim. 

Slowly,  with  a  mist  before  her  eyes  she 
picked  up  the  heavy  basket,  and,  descending 
the  steps  of  the  porch,  spread  the  garments 
upon  the  bleaching  grass  to  dry.  The  glitter- 
ing glories  of  the  circus  had  turned  all  at 
once  to  a  black  shadow  in  her  memory,  and 
she  wished  fervently  that  she  had  never  seen 
it  nor  those  rich  people  who  had  come  to 
make  a  mock  of  it,  but  had  stayed  to  applaud 
Jim. 


THE  RED  NOTE-BOOK          93 

But  why  shouldn't  they,  even  if  they  hadn't 
recognized  him?  He  belonged  to  their  world, 
not  hers.  Then  a  new,  inexpressibly  forlorn 
thought  came  to  her;  what  was  her  world, 
anyway?  She  didn't  belong  anywhere;  there 
was  no  place  for  her  unless  she  made  one  for 
herself,  some  time. 

With  that,  in  spite  of  this  strange,  new 
weariness  which  dragged  at  her  heart,  Lou's 
indomitable  spirit  reasserted  itself,  and  her 
small  teeth  clamped  together.  She  would 
make  herself  a  place  somewhere,  somehow. 

Returning  to  the  house,  she  took  the  iron- 
ing from  her  tired  hostess's  hands,  and  worked 
steadily  until  at  sundown  the  high  treble  of 
childish  voices  came  to  her  ears,  and  Jim's 
merry,  laughing  tones  in  reply  sent  a  quick 
stab  through  her,  but  she  put  down  the  iron 
and  went  determinedly  out  on  the  porch. 

The  two  little  boys  came  shyly  on  up  the 
steps,  but  Jim  had  paused  to  feel  of  his  coat, 
as  it  lay  on  the  grass,  and  looked  ruefully  at 
her. 

"It's  wet  still,  I'm  afraid,"  she  remarked 
composedly,  as  she  picked  up  the  red  note- 


94  ANYTHING  ONCE 

book  and  held  it  out  to  him.  "Is  this  yourn? 
It  looks  as  though  it  must  have  dropped  out  of 
your  pocket  an'  somebody  stepped  on  it." 

If  the  girl  noted  the  swift  change  which 
came  over  his  face  she  gave  no  sign  as  he 
came  forward  and  took  the  book  from  her 
hands. 

"Yes,  it's  mine."  He  opened  and  closed  it 
again,  and  then  looked  up  uncertainly  into  her 
face  as  she  stood  on  the  steps  above  him,  but 
Lou  was  gazing  in  seeming  serenity  out  over 
the  fields,  which  were  still  shimmering  in  the 
last  rays  of  the  sun.  "I — I'll  tell  you  about 
this  some  time,  Lou.  It's  funny." 

"What's  funny?"  she  asked,  with  a  little 
start,  as  though  he  had  interrupted  some  train 
of  thought  of  her  own,  far  removed  from 
hateful  little  red  books. 

"If  you  think  it's  goin'  to  be  funny  to  travel 
in  wet  clothes  to-night,  just  wait  till  you  git 
started." 

But  they  did  not  start  upon  their  journey 
again  that  night,  after  all.  Their  kindly 
hostess  insisted  upon  their  remaining  until 
the  morning,  at  least,  and  when  the  supper 


THE  RED  NOTE-BOOK          95 

dishes  were  cleared  away  Lou  wandered  off 
by  herself  down  the  little  lane  which  led  to 
the  pasture. 

There  would  be  three  days  more,  and  then 
their  journey's  end.  Upon  one  thing  she  had 
decided:  there  would  be  no  school  for  her! 
She  was  going  to  work  as  quickly  as  she  could 
find  something  to  do.  Mr.  James  Abbott 
must  be  paid  back  for  the  little  pink-checked 
frock  and  the  hat  with  the  green  bow,  and 
then  she  would  drop  from  his  sight.  Surely 
in  that  great  city,  with  its  hundreds  and  hun- 
dreds of  people,  she  would  be  able  to  dis- 
appear. 

Reaching  the  pasture,  she  stood  at  the  gate 
with  her  arms  resting  upon  the  topmost  rail, 
and  was  so  deep  in  reflection  that  she  did  not 
hear  a  step  behind  her  until  a  hand  touched 
her  shoulder,  and  Jim's  voice  asked  quietly: 

"What  are  you  doing  off  here  by  yourself, 
Lou?  Mrs.  Bemis  didn't  know  what  had  be- 
come of  you,  and  I've  been  looking  every- 
where." 

"I  dunno,"  Lou  answered  truthfully 
enough.  "I  been  thinkin'  'bout  the  insti- 


96  ANYTHING  ONCE 

tootion  where  I  come  from;  it  was  seem'  them 
little  boys  put  me  in  mind  of  it,  I  reckon.  I 
was  kinder  wonderin'  what  it  would  be  like 
to  really  belong  to  anybody." 

There  was  neither  pathos  nor  self-pity  in 
her  tone,  but  rather  a  cold,  dispassionate 
speculation  that  froze  the  words  of  awkward 
sympathy  which  rose  to  his  lips,  and  he  re- 
mained silent. 

"I  did  once,  you  know,"  she  continued,  "be- 
long to  some — body,  I  mean.  I  had  on  a 
white  dress  all  trimmed  with  lace  when  they 
found  me  in  the  station  at  the  junction  an'  took 
me  up  to  the  institootion ;  it  was  the  only 
white  dress  I  ever  had." 

"Where  was  this  institution,  Lou?"  Jim 
asked.  "You've  never  told  me,  you  know." 

Lou  shrugged. 

"Oh,  it  was  'way  up  at  a  place  called  May- 
field's  Corners;  I  was  most  three  hours  on  the 
train  before  I  got  to  the  station  nearest  Hess's 
farm." 

A  vicious  desire  came  over  her  to  shock  and 
repulse  that  inexplicable  thing  in  him  which 
set  him  apart  from  her  and  made  him  one 


THE  RED  NOTE-BOOK          97 

with  the  world  in  which  those  others  moved; 
that  stout  gentleman  and  the  young  lady  who 
had  called  him  Jimmie.  She  added  de- 
liberately: 

"I  told  you  what  I  did  there — at  the  in- 
stitootion,  I  mean:  scrubbed  an'  cooked  an' 
washed  an'  tended  babies  an'  wore  a  uniform, 
just  like  any  other  norphin,  I  guess.  Slep'  in 
the  garret  with  the  rats  runnin'  over  the  floor, 
an'  got  up  in  the  mornin'  to  the  same  old 
work.  It  warn't  a  State  institootion,  you  see; 
just  a  kind  of  a  charity  one,  run  by  the  deacons 
of  the  church;  I  ain't  got  much  use  for 
charity." 

"I  shouldn't  think  you  would  have,"  he  ex- 
claimed. "But  it's  all  behind  you  now,  Lou. 
We  made  fourteen  miles  to-day  from  High- 
vale — or  will  have  when  we  walk  down  the 
hill  to  Riverburgh  to-morrow,  and  it  is  only 
sixty  miles  further  to  New  York." 

"That's  good,"  Lou  said,  but  without  en- 
thusiasm. "Do  we  start  at  sun-up?" 

"I  thought  I'd  like  to  work  for  Mrs.  Bemis 
for  a  couple  of  hours  first  and  get  the  hay 
turned  in  that  south  field,"  Jim  answered. 


98  ANYTHING  ONCE 

"She's  been  so  good  to  us,  and  she'll  need 
the  stuff  this  winter  for  those  two  old  plugs 
out  there." 

He  pointed  out  into  the  pasture,  where  two 
horses  made  mere  blotches  of  deeper  shadow 
beneath  a  tree. 

Lou  laughed  suddenly,  softly,  but  it  seemed 
to  him  that  the  rippling,  liquid  note  had 
vanished. 

"What's  funny?"  he  asked. 

"Oh,  nothin'.  I  was  just  thinkin'  of  you 
last  night  in  that  circus.  You  rode  so — so 
wonderfully.  I  wasn't  laughin'  at  that,  but  it 
just  come  to  me  how  funny  it  would  have  been 
if  any  of  your  friends  was  to  have  seen  you!" 

Jim  glanced  at  her  sharply,  but  in  the  star- 
light her  face  seemed  merely  amused  as  at  a 
whimsical  thought. 

"Why  would  it  have  been  funny?"  he  in- 
sisted. "Of  course  I  never  rode  in  a  real 
circus  before,  and  I  guess  I  was  pretty  rotten, 
but  why  would  my  friends  have  laughed?" 

"I  dunno."  Lou  dropped  her  arms  from 
the  fence- rail  and  turned  away.  "Let's  go 
back  to  the  house.  I — I'm  pretty  tired," 


CHAPTER  VII 

REVELATIONS 

THE  next  morning  was  a  trying  one  for 
them  both.  Jim  felt  dully  that  some- 
thing was  the  matter,  but  the  girl's  manner 
baffled  him,  and  he  could  not  make  up  his 
mind  as  to  whether  she  had  glanced  in  the 
note-book  or  not.  It  did  not  seem  like  her  to 
do  so  deliberately,  but  if  she  had  he  could 
only  make  things  worse  by  broaching  the  sub- 
ject, since  he  was  not  at  the  moment  in  a  posi- 
tion to  explain. 

As  for  Lou,  she  was  trying  her  best  to  ap- 
pear her  old  self  with  him,  but  dissimulation 
was  an  art  in  which  she  was  as  yet  unversed, 
and  her  whole  nature  rebelled  against  play- 
ing a  part.  Only  her  pride  kept  her  from 
betraying  her  disappointment  in  him  and  run- 
ning away.  She  told  herself  fiercely  that  he 

99 


IOO 

didn't  care  what  she  thought  of  him;  they 
were  only  partners  met  by  chance  on  the  road, 
and  perhaps  never  to  see  each  other  again 
after  the  city  was  reached. 

If  he  had  lied  to  her  about  his  name  that 
was  his  own  business,  and  she  would  not  ad- 
mit even  to  herself  that  this  deception  was 
not  the  only  reason  for  the  strange,  hurt  feel- 
ing about  her  heart. 

She  rose  at  dawn,  and,  creeping  down  from 
the  clean  little  room  which  Mrs.  Bemis  had 
given  her,  she  had  the  stove  going  and  break- 
fast on  the  table  by  the  time  the  little  family 
was  awake,  and  Jim  appeared  from  the  barn, 
where  he  had  slept  in  the  loft. 

While  he  worked  in  the  field  during  the 
early  morning  hours,  she  finished  the  ironing, 
and  by  ten  o'clock  they  were  ready  once  more 
to  start  upon  their  way. 

Mrs.  Bemis  insisted  upon  paying  them  both 
for  their  work,  but  it  was  only  out  of  con- 
sideration for  her  pride  that  Jim  would  ac- 
cept fifty  cents  of  the  two  dollars  she  offered 
him. 

"I  only  work  for  a  quarter  a  time,"  he  told 


REVELATIONS  101 

her  gravely.  "One  for  yesterday  and  one  for 
this  morning;  my  sister  can  tell  you  that.  I — 
I  would  like  to  write  to  you  if  I  may  when 
we  reach  home,  Mrs.  Bemis.  Will  you  tell 
me  what  address  will  find  you?  You  see,  I 
want  to  thank  you  properly  for  all  your  kind- 
ness to  us,  and  I  don't  know  whether  this  is 
the  township  of  Riverburgh  or  not." 

"It's  the  Stilton  post-office,"  the  little 
woman  stammered.  "Of  course,  I'd  like  to 
hear  from  both  of  you,  but  you  mustn't  thank 
me !  I  don't  know  what  I  should  have  done 
without  your  help  with  the  hay!  And  your 
sister,  too;  I  do  hope  you  both  find  work 
where  you're  going." 

To  Lou's  amazement  Jim  produced  the  lit- 
tle red  note-book  and  wrote  the  address  care- 
fully in  it,  adding  what  appeared  to  be  some 
figures  at  one  side.  Then  he  thanked  their 
good  Samaritan  and  they  took  their  leave. 

"That  makes  a  dollar  and  ten  cents!"  he  re- 
marked confidentially  as  he  and  Lou  went 
down  the  hill  road  together  toward  the  bus- 
tling little  city  nestled  at  the  river's  edge. 
"Quite  a  fortune,  isn't  it?" 


102  ANYTHING  ONCE 

"She  gave  me  a  quarter  for  helping  with 
the  ironing,  too,  so  that's  thirty-five  that  I've 
got."  Lou  exhibited  a  hard  knot  tied  in  the 
corner  of  her  handkerchief.  "I  couldn't  get 
all  of  the  egg  out  of  my  hat,  but  it's  good 
enough.  Where  do  we  go  from  Riverburgh?" 

Jim  gave  a  groan  of  mock  despair. 

"That's  the  dev — I  mean,  the  deuce  of  it!" 
he  exclaimed.  "We've  got  to  cross  the  river 
there  someway,  and  go  on  down  on  the  other 
side.  We  can't  keep  on  this,  or  we  will  run 
into  New  Jersey  and — and  I  mustn't  leave  the 
State." 

He  blurted  the  last  out  in  a  'dogged,  uncom- 
fortable way,  but  Lou  did  not  appear  to  notice 
his  change  of  tone. 

"Well,  there  look  to  be  plenty  of  boats  goin' 
back  an'  forth,"  she  observed  placidly,  "I 
guess  we  can  get  over." 

"But  you  don't  understand.  I — I  can't  pay 
our  way  over;  that's  another  of  the  things  I 
mustn't  do."  Jim  flushed  hotly. 

"I  wish  I  could  tell  you  all  about  it." 

"It  don't  make  any  difference."  Lou  kept 
her  eyes  fixed  straight  ahead  of  her.  "There 


REVELATIONS  103 

ought  to  be  some  way  for  you  to  work  your 
way  across." 

The  road  dipped  sharply,  and  became  all 
at  once  a  pleasant,  tree-lined  street  with  pretty 
suburban  cottages  on  either  hand.  To  the 
east  and  north  hung  the  smoke  cloud  of  count- 
less factories,  but  their  way  led  them  through 
the  modest  residential  quarter.  The  street 
presently  turned  into  a  paved  one,  and  trolley 
lines  appeared;  then  brick  buildings  and 
shops,  and  before  they  knew  it  they  were  in 
the  busy,  crowded  business  thoroughfare. 

Lou  would  have  paused,  gaping  and  won- 
dering if  New  York  could  be  anything  like 
this,  but  Jim  hurried  her  down  the  steep, 
cobbled  way  which  led  to  the  ferry.  Once 
there,  he  took  her  to  a  seat  in  the  waiting- 
room. 

"Sit  here  and  wait  for  me,"  he  directed. 
"I'm  going  to  run  back  up  to  the  shops  and 
get  some  provisions  for  us  to  carry  along,  and 
then  I'll  arrange  about  getting  across.  I 
shan't  be  long." 

When  he  came  down  the  hill  again  some 
twenty  minutes  later  laden  with  packages,  he 


104  ANYTHING  ONCE 

found  Lou  waiting  for  him  at  the  door  of  the 
ferry-house,  with  a  little  exultant  smile  about 
her  lips. 

"Come  on,"  she  commanded  shortly.  "I've 
fixed  it  for  us  to  get  over,  but  we  gotta  hurry. 
The  boat's  a'most  ready  to  start." 

"How  in  the  world "  he  began,  but 

without  deigning  to  explain  she  led  him  to  the 
gate.  It  was  only  after  he  had  perforce  pre- 
ceded her  that  he  saw  her  hand  two  tickets  to 
the  officials  at  the  turnstile. 

"Lou!"  he  exclaimed  reproachfully. 

"Well,  it's  all  right,  isn't  it?"  she  de- 
manded. "You  kin  ride  if  anybody  asks  you, 
can't  you?  I'm  invitin'  you  to  ride  on  this 
boat  with  me,  Mr.  Botts!" 

In  spite  of  her  assumed  gaiety,  however, 
the  trip  across  the  river  was  a  silent  one,  and 
when  the  landing  was  reached  and  they  hur- 
ried out  of  the  settlement  to  the  open  coun- 
try once  more,  both  were  acutely  aware  that 
the  intangible  rift  was  widening.  It  was  as 
though  they  walked  on  opposite  sides  of  the 
road,  and  neither  could  bridge  the  distance 
between. 


REVELATIONS  105 

Both  doggedly  immersed  in  their  own  re- 
flections, they  walked  on  rapidly  in  spite  of 
the  heat  and  with  no  thought  of  time  or  dis- 
tance until  Jim  realized  that  his  companion 
was  lagging,  and  glanced  up  to  see  that  the 
sun  had  started  well  upon  the  western  trail. 

"By  Jove  I  You  must  be  almost  starved  I" 
he  cried.  "I  never  thought — why  didn't  you 
wake  me  out  of  this  trance  I  seem  to  have 
been  in,  and  tell  me  it  was  long  pasf  :ime  for 
chow?  We  must  have  walked  miles  1" 

"I  didn't  think,  either."  Lou  glanced  about 
her  wearily.  "I  don't  see  any  house,  but  I 
kinder  think  I  hear  a  little  brook  somewhere, 
don't  you?  Let's  find  it,  an'  then  hurry  on; 
if  we've  got  to  do  sixty  miles  by  the  day  after 
to-morrow  we  got  to  be  movin'  right  steady." 

They  found  the  little  brook,  and  ate  of  their 
supplies  and  drank  heartily,  for  they  were 
buth  famished  by  the  long  walk,  but  all  the 
carefree  joyousness  seemed  to  have  gone  out 
of  the  adventure,  and  when  Lou  discovered 
that  the  knot  in  the  corner  of  her  handker- 
chief had  become  untied  and  the  remainder 


io6  ANYTHING  ONCE 

of  her  capital  was  gone,  it  appeared  to  be  the 
last  cloud  needed  to  immerse  her  in  gloom. 

Her  feet  were  blistered  and  every  muscle 
ached  with  fatigue,  but  she  shook  her  head 
when  Jim  asked  if  she  were  too  tired  to  go 
on,  and  limped  determinedly  out  into  the  road 
after  him.  She  had  accepted  his  companion- 
ship to  New  York,  and  she  would  drop  in  her 
tracks  before  she  would  be  a  drag  on  him  and 
prevent  his  reaching  there  in  the  time  which 
was  so  mysteriously  important  to  him. 

A  mile  farther  on,  however,  an  empty 
motor  van  picked  them  up,  and  seated  at  the 
back  with  her  feet  hanging  over,  Lou 
promptly  fell  asleep,  her  head  sagging  un- 
consciously against  Jim's  shoulder.  He  did 
not  touch  her,  but  moved  so  that  her  head 
should  fall  into  a  more  comfortable  position, 
and  looked  down  with  new  tenderness  at  the 
tow-colored  hair.  The  ridiculous,  outstand- 
ing braid  was  gone,  and  instead,  a  soft  knot 
appeared  low  on  the  slender,  sun-burned  neck, 
with  tiny  tendrils  of  curls  escaping  from  it. 

What  a  game  little  sport  she  had  proved 
herself  to  be  I  He  wondered  how  many  girls 


REVELATIONS  107 

of  his  own  set  would  have  had  the  courage 
and  endurance  for  such  a  test.  Then  to  his 
own  amazement  he  found  himself  thinking  of 
them  with  a  certain  sense  of  disparagement, 
almost  contempt.  They  would  not  have  had 
the  moral  courage,  let  alone  physical  endur- 
ance. 

Of  course,  this  sort  of  vagabondage  would 
be  outrageous  and  utterly  impossible  from  a 
conventional  standpoint,  but  with  Lou  it  had 
been  a  mere  venture  into  Arcady,  as  innocent 
as  the  wanderings  of  two  children.  And 
Saturday  it  must  end! 

At  the  outskirts  of  Parksville  he  called  to 
the  good-natured  truckman  who  sat  behind 
the  wheel,  and  the  latter  obligingly  put  on  the 
brakes. 

"My  sister  and  I  don't  want  to  go  right  into 
the  town,  so  we'll  get  out  here  if  you  don't 
mind,"  Jim  said.  "This  lift  has  been  a  god- 
send, and  I  can't  thank  you,  but  I've  got  the 
name  of  the  company  you're  working  for  in 
New  York  and  I'll  drop  around  some  night 
when  I'm  flush  and  you're  knocking  off,  and 


io8  ANYTHING  ONCE 

we'll  see  if  the  old  burg  is  as  dry  as  it's  sup- 
posed to  be." 

"You're  on!"  The  driver  grinned.  "Got 
a  job  waitin'  for  yer?  We  need  some 
helpers." 

"I've  got  a  job."  Jim  thought  of  that  "job" 
in  the  mahogany-lined  suite  of  offices  which 
bore  his  name  on  the  door,  but  he  did  not 
smile.  "I'll  look  you  up  soon.  Come  on, 
Lou ;  here's  where  we  change  cars." 

She  rubbed  her  eyes  and  gazed  about  her 
bewilderedly  in  the  gathering  darkness  as  he 
lifted  her  to  the  ground  and  the  truck  rumbled 
off. 

"Where — where  are  we  now?"  she  asked 
sleepily. 

"Just  outside  Parksville;  see  those  lights 
over  there?"  he  replied.  "We  must  have 
walked  more  than  ten  miles  before  that  motor 
van  came  along,  so  it  isn't  any  wonder  that 
you  were  tired,  even  if  you  wouldn't  admit  it- 
Just  think,  nineteen  miles  to-day!" 

He  was  wondering,  even  as  he  spoke,  wHat 
they  were  to  do  for  the  night.  He  had  not 
enough  money  to  secure  even  the  humblest  of 


REVELATIONS  109 

lodgings  for  her,  and  he  knew  that  if  they 
ventured  as  vagrants  into  the  town  they  would 
be  in  danger  of  apprehension  by  the  author- 
ities. But  Lou  solved  the  question  quite 
simply. 

"Isn't  that  big  thing  stickln'  up  In  that  field 
a  haystack?  I — I'd  like  a  piece  of  that  sponge 
cake  that's  left  from  what  we  ate  at  noon, 
and  then  crawl  in  there  an'  sleep  straight 
through  till  to-morrow,"  she  declared.  "Did 
you  want  to  go  on  any  further  to-night?" 

"Heavens,  no,  I  was  just  wondering — I 
don't  see  why  it  couldn't  be  done,"  he  replied 
somewhat  haltingly.  "There  isn't  any  house 
near,  and  I  don't  think  anything  will  hurt 
you." 

The  latter  probability  seemed  of  no  mo- 
ment to  Lou.  She  fell  asleep  again  with  her 
sponge  cake  half  eaten,  and  he  picked  her  up 
and  nestled  her  in  the  hay  as  though  she  were 
in  very  truth  a  child.  Then,  as  on  the  first 
night  at  the  deserted  mill  near  Hudsondale, 
he  sat  down  at  the  foot  of  the  haystack,  on 
guard. 

It  was  well  for  them,  however,  that  the  hay- 


i  io  ANYTHING  ONCE 

ing  was  done  in  that  particular  field,  and  no 
farmer  appeared  from  the  big  white  house 
just  over  the  hill,  for  in  spite  of  his  most 
valiant  efforts  Jim,  too,  slumbered,  and  it  was 
broad  day  when  he  awoke. 

Lou  had  vanished  from  the  haystack,  but  he 
found  her  at  a  little  spring  in  a  strip  of 
woodland  on  the  other  side  of  the  road,  and 
they  breakfasted  hastily,  conserving  the  last 
fragments  of  food  for  their  midday  meal,  and 
started  off. 

They  had  left  the  last  chimney  of  Parks- 
ville  well  behind  them  when  Jim  suddenly 
observed : 

"You're  limping,  Lou.  Let  me  see  your 
shoes." 

She  drew  away  from  him. 

"It's  nothin',"  she  denied.  "My  shoes  are 
all  right.  I — I  must  Ve  slept  too  long  last 
night  an'  got  sort  of  stiffened  up." 

The  freckles  were  swamped  in  a  deep  flood 
of  color,  but  Jim  repeated  insistently:  "Hold 
up  your  foot,  Lou." 

Reluctantly  she  obeyed,  disclosing  a  bat- 


REVELATIONS  in 

tered  sole  through  the  worn  places  of  which 
something  green  showed. 

"I — I  stuffed  it  with  leaves,"  she  confessed, 
defensively.  "They're  real  comfortable,  hon- 
estly. I'm  just  stiff " 

Jim  groaned. 

"I  suppose  they  will  have  to  do  until  we 
reach  the  next  town,  but  you  should  have 
told  me." 

"I  kin  take  care  of  myself,"  Lou  asserted. 
"I've  walked  in  pretty  near  as  bad  as  these  in 
the  institootion.  We'd  better  get  along  to 
where  there's  some  houses  'cause  it  looks  to 
me  like  a  storm  was  comin'  up." 

The  sun  was  still  blazing  down  upon  them, 
but  it  was  through  a  murky  haze,  and  the  air 
seemed  lifeless  and  heavy.  Great,  white- 
crested  thunder  heads  were  mounting  in  the 
sky,  and  behind  them  a  dense  blackness 
spread. 

"You're  right;  I  never  noticed "  Jim 

paused  guiltily.  After  leaving  the  vicinity  of 
Parskville  he  had  purposely  led  her  on  a  de- 
tour back  into  the  farming  country  to  avoid 
the  main  highway,  for  along  the  river  front 


ii2  ANYTHING  ONCE 

were  the  estates  of  some  people  he  knew  and 
he  shrank  from  meeting  them  in  his  tramplike 
condition  if  they  should  motor  past.  There 
was  Lou,  too,  to  be  considered.  He  might 
have  offered  some  possible  explanation  for  his 
own  appearance,  but  no  interpretation  could 
be  placed  upon  her  presence  at  his  side  save 
that  which  he  must  prevent  at  all  costs. 

Rolling  fields  and  woodland  stretched  away 
inimitably  on  both  sides  of  the  road,  and 
not  even  a  cow  shed  appeared  as  they  hurried 
onward,  while  the  clouds  mounted  higher,  and 
the  rumble  of  thunder  grew  upon  the  air. 
The  sun  had  vanished,  and  a  strange,  antici- 
patory stillness  enveloped  them,  broken  only 
by  that  hollow  muttering. 

"It's  comin'  up  fast."  Lou  broke  the  silence 
with  one  of  her  seldomly  volunteered  remarks. 
"Shall  we  git  into  the  woods?  I'd  as  lief 
dodge  trees  as  be  drowned  in  the  road." 

"Nol"  Jim  shook  his  head.  "There  is 
some  kind  of  a  shack  just  ahead  there;  I  think 
we  can  make  it  before  the  storm  comes." 

They  were  fairly  running  now,  but  the 
darkness  was  settling  fast  and  a  fork  of  light- 


REVELATIONS  113 

ning  darted  blindingly  across  their  path.  The 
object  which  Jim  had  taken  for  a  shack 
proved  to  be  merely  a  pile  of  rotting  tele- 
graph poles,  but  no  other  shelter  offered,  and 
they  crouched  in  the  lee  of  it,  awaiting  the 
onslaught  of  rain. 

"Take  this,  Lou."  Jim  wrapped  his  coat 
about  her  in  spite  of  her  protestations. 
"You're  not  afraid,  are  you?" 

"No,  I  ain't — I'm  not — but  you're  goin'  to 
get  soaked  through!  I  heard  you  coughin* 
once  or  twice  at  the  bottom  of  that  haystack 
last  night."  He  thrilled  unconsciously  to  the 
motherliness  in  her  tone.  Then  she  added  re- 
flectively: "I  don't  guess  I'm  afraid  of  any- 
thin'  I've  seen  yet,  but  I  ain't — I  haven't  seen 
much." 

She  ended'  with  a  sharp  intake  of  her 
breath  as  a  sudden  gust  of  wind  whirled  the 
dust  up  into  their  faces  and  another  streak  of 
white  light  flashed  before  their  eyes.  Then 
with  a  rush  and  roar  the  storm  burst. 

The  woods  marched  straight  down  to  the 
roadside  at  this  point,  and  the  trees  back  of 
the  heap  of  poles  moaned  and  writhed  like 

\ 


H4  ANYTHING  ONCE 

tortured  creatures  while  great  branches  lashed 
over  their  heads  with  now  and  then  an  omin- 
ous crackle,  but  it  was  lost  in  the  surge  of  the 
winds  and  the  ceaseless  crash  and  roar  of  the 
thunder.  Jagged  forks  of  lightning  played 
all  about  them  like  rapiers  of  steel,  and  at  last 
the  rain  came. 

The  brim  of  Lou's  hat,  hopelessly  limp 
since  its  cleansing  of  the  previous  day,  now 
flopped  stringily  against  her  face  until  she 
tore  it  off  and  gasping,  buried  her  head  in  her 
arms  as  the  sheets  of  rain  pelted  down.  Jim's 
coat  was  sodden,  and  the  thin  cotton  gown  be- 
neath clung  to  her  drenched  body,  but  she 
crouched  closer  to  the  poles  while  each  volley 
of  thunder  shook  her  as  with  invisible  hands. 

Her  lashes  were  glued  to  her  cheeks,  but 
she  forced  them  open  and  turned  to  see  how 
Jim  was  faring.  He  had  flattened  himself 
against  the  poles  at  their  farther  end,  and  just 
as  she  looked  his  way  a  flash  of  lightning 
seemed  to  split  the  air  between  them  and  the 
huge  old  tree  which  reared  its  branches  just 
above  his  head,  snapped  like  a  dry  twig  be- 
neath some  giant  heel. 


REVELATIONS  115 

Leu  saw  the  great  oak  totter  and  then  sway, 
while  a  sickening  swirl  of  branches  filled  the 
air,  and  scarcely  conscious  of  her  own  act  she 
hurled  herself  upon  Jim.  With  all  the 
strength  borne  of  her  terror  she  pushed  him 
from  the  heap  of  poles,  sending  him  rolling 
out  into  the  middle  of  the  road,  to  safety. 
Then  she  tried  to  spring  after  him,  but  a  hide- 
ous, waiting  lethargy  seemed  to  encompass 
her,  and  then  with  a  mighty  crash  the  tree  fell 
athwart  the  poles. 

Half  stunned  by  the  unexpected  onslaught 
upon  him  and  the  rending  blast  of  the  falling 
tree,  Jim  lay  motionless  for  an  instant,  then 
with  a  sharp  cry  sprang  to  his  feet  and  turned 
to  look  for  Lou,  but  the  pile  of  telegraph  poles 
was  hidden  beneath  a  broad  sweep  of 
branches  and  across  the  place  where  she  had 
crouched  the  great  trunk  of  the  tree  lay  prone. 

"Lou!"  The  cry  burst  from  his  very  heart 
as  he  sprang  forward  and  began  to  tear  fran- 
tically at  the  stout  limbs  which  barred  his 
way.  "Oh,  God,  she  isn't  crushed!  Don't 
take  her  now,  she's  so  little  and  young,  and  I 
want  her,  I  need  her  so!  God!" 


ii6  ANYTHING  ONCE 

He  was  unconscious  that  he  was  praying 
aloud,  unconscious  of  the  words  which  issued 
sobbingly  from  his  lips.  He  tugged  and  tore 
at  the  branches  while  the  skin  ripped  like 
ribbons  from  his  hands  and  the  boughs 
whipped  back  to  raise  great  welts  upon  his 
face* 

He  was  unconscious,  too,  of  a  stir  at  the 
other  side  of  the  fallen  tree  and  a  rustle  of 
sodden  leaves,  as,  very  much  after  the  manner 
of  a  prairie  dog  emerging  from  his  hole,  Lou 
crawled  out  into  the  rain,  and  sitting  up, 
sneezed. 

At  the  sound  of  that  meek  sternutation  Jim 
whirled  about. 

"Lou!" 

"Jim!  Oh,  Jim!  You're  not  killed!"  A 
muddy,  bedraggled  little  figure  that  once  had 
been  pink  and  white  flew  straight  to  him,  and 
two  soft  arms  swept  about  him  and  clung  con- 
vulsively. "I  seen  it  comin',  an' — an'  I  tried 
to  shove  you  out  of  the  way " 

"Thank  God,  little  girl!  Thank  God  you 
aren't  hurt!"  he  murmured  brokenly.  "I 
thought  the  tree  had  fallen  on  you !" 


REVELATIONS  117 

"Only  the  boughs  of  it,  but  they  Held  me 
down.  Oh,  Jim,  if  you'd  been  killed  I 
wouldn't  'a'  cared  what  happened  to  mel" 

His  heart  leaped,  and  his  own  arms  tight- 
ened about  her  at  the  naive,  unconscious 
revelation  which  had  issued  from  her  lips. 
Then  all  at  once  he  realized  what  it  had 
meant,  that  hideous  feeling  of  loss  when  he 
thought  that  she  lay  buried  beneath  the  tree. 
It  had  come  to  them  both,  revealed  as  by  a 
flash  of  the  lightning  which  was  now  travel- 
ing toward  the  east,  and  in  the  wonder  and 
joy  of  it  he  held  her  close  for  a  moment  and 
then  put  her  gently  from  him. 

Sternly  repressing  the  words  whicH  would 
have  rushed  from  his  heart,  he  said  quietly: 

"Thank  God  we  were  both  spared.  Come, 
little  Lou,  we  must  find  shelter," 


CHAPTER  VIII 
JOURNEY'S  END 

rain  had  ceased,  and  as  they  walked 
A  down  the  muddy  road  the  sun  came  out 
even  before  the  final  mutterings  of  the  thun- 
der had  died  away  in  the  distance,  and  so 
they  came  at  last  upon  a  little  house  which 
sat  well  back  among  a  group  of  dripping 
trees. 

"Take  your  coat,  Jim,"  Lou  said,  breaking 
a  long  silence  which  had  fallen  between  them. 
"That  porch  is  so  wet  now  that  we  can't  get 
it  any  wetter  an'  I'm  goin'  to  ask  for  a  chance 
to  get  dry." 

But  they  had  scarcely  passed  through  the 
gate  when  the  front  door  opened  and  a  young 
woman  rushed  out. 

"Oh!  Will  you  run  to  the  next  house  for 
m  and  telephone  for  the  doctor?"  she  cried, 

118 


JOURNEY'S  END  119 

all  in  one  breath.  Her  eyes  were  staring  and 
her  breast  heaved  convulsively. 

Jim  quickened  his  pace. 

"Where  is  the  next  house,  and  what  doctor 
shall  I  send  for?"  he  asked  pleasantly. 

"It's  just  over  the  ridge  there;  the  Colberts. 
They  know  Dr.  Blair's  number.  My  husband 
would  go  himself  but  he  can't  step  on  his 
hurt  foot  and  I  don't  dare  leave.  Tell  the 
Colberts  that  it's  the  baby!  He's  dying,  and 
I  don't  know  what  to  do !" 

Jim  turned,  and  hurried  off  over  the  ridge, 
but  Lou  took  a  step  forward. 

"Baby!  I've  been  takin'  care  of  babies  all 
my  life,  seems  like.  You  let  me  look  at  it, 


ma'am." 


"Oh,  do  you  think  you  could  do  anything, 
a  little  thing  like  you?" 

The  young  woman  eyed  the  forlornly 
drenched  figure  before  her  rather  doubtfully, 
but  something  she  read  in  Lou's  steady,  con- 
fident gaze  seemed  to  reassure  her,  and  she 
threw  wide  the  door.  "Come  in,  please! 
He's  all  blue." 

Lou    unceremoniously    pushed    past    her 


120  ANYTHING  ONCE 

down  the  clean  little  hallway  and  paused  for 
a  moment  upon  the  threshold  of  the  room  at 
its  end.  It  was  a  kitchen,  small,  but  as  im- 
maculately clean  as  the  hall,  and  in  a  rocking- 
chair  near  the  window  sat  an  anxious-eyed 
young  man  with  his  bandaged  foot  up  on  an- 
other chair  before  him,  and  in  his  arms  a  tiny, 
rigid  little  form. 

Lou  went  straight  to  him  and  unceremoni- 
ously possessed  herself  of  the  baby. 

Its  small  face  was  waxen,  with  a  bluish 
tinge  about  the  mouth,  and  half-closed,  glaz- 
ing eyes. 

"How  long's  it  been  like  this?"  Lou  de- 
manded sharply. 

"Only  just  a  few  minutes.  It — it  seemed 
like  a  sort  of  fit  that  he  had."  The  young 
woman  turned  to  her  husband.  "Jack,  this 
little  girl  stopped  by  and  said  she  knew  all 
about  babies,  and  the  man  with  her,  he's  gone 
for " 

"I  want  some  hot  water,  quick!"  Lou  in- 
terrupted the  explanations  brusquely.  "Boil- 
Ing  hot,  and  a  tub  or  a  big  pan.  Have  you 
got  the  kettle  on?" 


JOURNEY'S  END  121 

"Y-yes,  but  I'm  afraid  I've  let  the  fire  go 
out,"  the  woman  faltered.  "I  was  so  wor- 
ried  " 

With  an  exclamation  of  impatience  Lou  re- 
wrapped  the  baby  which  she  had  been  ex- 
amining and  thrust  it  into  the  man's  arms. 
Then  turning  to  the  woman  with  exasperation 
in  her  eyes  and  voice  she  demanded : 

"I  s'pose  you  can  find  some  dry  chips,  some- 
where, can't  you?  If  I  don't  get  this  baby 
into  a  hot  bath  right  away  it'll  be  all  up  with 
him." 

The  woman  gasped,  and  ran  out  of  the  back 
door  while  the  young  man  in  the  chair 
groaned : 

"It's  awful  to  sit  here  helpless  and  watch 
him  suffer!  If  I  could  only  put  my  foot  to 
the  floor " 

"How  old  is  he,  anyway?"  Lou,  who  was 
busily  searching  the  shelf  of  groceries,  asked 
over  her  shoulder.  "He  looks  to  be  under  a 
year." 

"Ten  months,  miss,"  he  answered.  "What 
do  you  think  is  the  matter  with  him?" 

"Convulsion,"  Lou  replied  succinctly,  as  the 


122  ANYTHING  ONCE 

woman  rushed  in  once  more  with  her  apron 
full  of  chips.  "Git  some  more,  it  don't  mat- 
ter how  you  clog  the  stove  with  wood  ashes; 
we  gotta  git  boilin'  water  as  quick  as  we  kin." 

Meanwhile  Jim  found  the  Colbert  house, 
explained  his  mission,  and  having  accom- 
plished it,  hastened  back.  He  pulled  the  bell, 
but  no  one  came,  and  knocking,  found  that 
the  door  yielded  to  his  touch.  Entering,  he 
went  down  the  hall  and  paused  at  the  kitchen 
door  just  as  the  woman  stammered : 

"I  d-don't  think  there  are  any  dry  kin- 
dlings left." 

"Then  chop  some!  Ain't  you  got  any  old 
boxes?  Oh,  Jim!"  Lou  caught  sight  of  him 
in  the  doorway.  "Find  a  hatchet  and  some 
light,  dry  wood,  will  you?" 

The  fire  was  roaring  in  the  stove  at  last,  but 
the  water  was  long  in  boiling,  and  the  little 
figure  in  the  man's  arms  seemed  to  be  under- 
going a  subtle  but  inevitable  change.  His 
lips  were  still  parted,  but  no  faintest  stir  of 
breath  emanated  from  them,  and  the  rigidity 
had  taken  on  a  marblelike  cast. 


JOURNEY'S  END  123 

The  mother  bent  over  him,  moaning  once 
more,  but  Lou  turned  upon  her  in  swift  scorn. 

"For  goodness'  sake,  where's  that  tub  or 
pan  I  asked  you  for?  He's  got  a  chance,  a 
good  chance  if  you  don't  waste  any  more  time! 
What  you  been  givin'  him,  anyway?"  she 
added,  as  the  woman  flew  to  do  her  bidding. 

"Nothing  but  a  little  green  corn.  He 
relishes  it,  and  it's  so  cute  to  see  him  try  to 
chew  it " 

"Green  corn  I"  Lou  repeated,  as  she  seized 
the  heavy  kettle  and  began  pouring  its  steam- 
ing contents  into  the  tub.  "Ain't  nobody  in 
your  family  ever  had  any  babies  before?" 

She  hastily  added  to  the  tub  a  quantity  of 
yellowish  powder  from  a  can  which  he  had 
found  upon  the  shelf  of  groceries,  and 
marched  determinedly  over  to  the  man  who 
was  seated  in  the  chair. 

"Give  me  that  baby!"  she  demanded. 

"But,  miss,  that  water's  boiling!"  he  gasped. 

"You're  not  going  to  put  my  baby  in  that?" 
The  woman  came  quickly  from  her  apathy 
of  dismay  and  sprang  forward,  while  Jim, 
too,  advanced,  his  anxiety  for  another  reason. 


124  ANYTHING  ONCE 

"Lou!  You'll  blister  yourself  horribly— 

"Let  me  alone,  all  of  you!"  Lou  turned 
upon  them  even  as  she  stripped  the  wrappings 
from  the  child.  "Haven't  I  done  this  a  hun- 
dred times?  He  ain't  even  goin'  to  feel  the 
heat  of  the  mustard,  he's  so  far  gone!  I 
guess  I  know  what  I'm  doin'!" 

The  woman  buried  her  face  in  her  hands 
with  a  sob,  and  even  Jim  turned  away  his 
eyes,  but  no  one  thought  to  interfere  further 
with  the  assured  little  nurse.  There  was  a 
splash  of  water,  a  little  gasp  from  Lou,  and 
then  after  a  period  which  seemed  interminable 
her  matter-of-fact  voice  remarked : 

"He's  comin'  round." 

The  tiny  body  was  scarcely  tinged  with 
pink,  but  it  had  lost  its  dreadful  rigidity,  and 
a  faint  cry  came  from  it  as  Lou  wrapped  it  in 
a  shawl  and  laid  it  in  its  mother's  arms. 

"He'll   do  now,   anyway  till   that  doctor 


comes." 


Amid  the  rejoicing  of  the  parents  Jim  ad- 
vanced to  Lou  and  demanded : 
"Let  me  see  your  arms." 
"They're  all  right—"     She  tried  to  put 


JOURNEY'S  END  125 

them  behind  her  as  she  spoke,  but  he  drew 
them  forward.  A  network  of  blisters  cov- 
ered them  almost  to  the  shoulders. 

"Oh,  Lou!  Lou!"  he  murmured  brokenly. 
"What  won't  you  do  next?" 

She  smiled  faintly. 

"You  said  I'd  do  anything  once,  but  I've 
done  this  lots  of  times  before " 

"Well,  well,  good  people!  What's  going 
on  here?"  A  kindly  voice  sounded  from  the 
doorway,  and  the  woman  turned  with  a  little 
cry. 

"Oh,  Dr.  Blair,  she  saved  the  baby!  Put 
him  down  in  that  scalding  water  and  held 
him  right  there  with  her  hands,  and  she's 
burned  herself  something  terrible,  but  she 
saved  him!  I  never  saw  a  braver " 

"Let  me  see." 

The  doctor  examined  the  baby  with  pro- 
fessional gravky  and  then  looked  up. 

"I  should  say  you  did  save  him,  young 
woman!  I  couldn't  have  done  better  for  him 
myself!  Now  let  me  have  a  look  at  those  arms 
of  yours." 

After  he   had  bandaged  her  blisters   the 


i26  ANYTHING  ONCE 

woman  prepared  food  and  coffee  for  them  all 
and  then  took  Lou  upstairs  with  her,  while 
Jim  dried  his  soaking  clothes  by  the  kitchen 
fire  and  the  three  men  talked  in  a  desultory 
way  of  the  topics  of  the  countryside. 

Dr.  Blair  had  just  ascertained  that  Jim  and 
his  "sister"  were  strangers,  traveling  toward 
New  York,  and  had  offered  to  drive  them 
both  to  the  trolley  line  in  his  little  car,  when 
the  woman  of  the  house  reappeared  with  Lou, 
and  Jim  stared  with  all  his  eyes. 

Could  this  be  the  little  scarecrow  of  a  girl 
he  had  met  on  the  road  only  five  days  before; 
this  unbelievably  tall,  slender  young  woman 
in  the  dark  blue  silk  gown  with  filmy  ruffles 
falling  about  her  neck  and  wrists,  and  soft 
puffs  of  blond  hair  over  her  ears? 

"It's  me,  though  I  kin  hardly  believe  it 
myself!"  Lou  answered  his  unspoken  thought. 
Then  drawing  him  aside  she  added:  "Mis1 
Tooker — that's  her  name — gave  me  a  pair  of 
shoes,  too,  an'  a  hat  an'  five  whole  dollars! 
Are  we  goin'  to  a  place  called  Pelton?" 

Jim  nodded. 

"That  is  where  I  hoped  we  would  be  by 


JOURNEY'S  END  127 

to-night,  but  it  must  be  at  least  twelve  miles 
away." 

"Well,  Mis'  Tooker  says  the  trolley  goes 
right  into  Pelton,  and  she  gave  me  a  letter  to 
a  friend  of  hers  there  who'll  take  us  in  for  the 
night " 

The  doctor  interrupted  with  an  intimation 
of  another  patient  to  be  visited,  and  they  bade 
farewell  to  the  grateful  young  couple  and 
started  away.  The  sun  was  still  high,  and 
gave  for  the  mud  which  splashed  up  with  each 
turn  of  the  wheels,  all  traces  of  the  storm  had 
vanished. 

"Jennie  Tooker  always  was  a  fool!"  Dr. 
Blair  grumbled.  "How  many  babies  have 
you  taken  care  of,  young  woman?" 

"More  'n  twenty,  I  guess,  off  an'  on,"  Lou 
responded.  "I — I  used  to  work  in  an  institoo- 
tion  up-State." 

Fearing  further  revelations,  Jim  hastily 
took  a  hand  in  the  conversation,  and  he  and 
the  doctor  chatted  until  the  trolley  line  was 
reached.  There,  when  they  had  descended 
from  the  little  car  Lou  turned  to  Jim  and 
asked  a  trifle  shyly: 


i28  ANYTHING  ONCE 

"You — you're  goin'  to  let  me  ask  you  to 
ride,  aren't  you?  You  bought  all  the  food  in 
Riverburgh,  you  know." 

"And  you  seem  to  have  financed  all  the  rest 
of  the  trip,"  he  said  with  a  rueful  laugh.  "I 
thought,  when  you  suggested  that  we  should 
travel  together,  I  would  be  the  one  to  take 
care  of  you,  but  it  has  been  the  other  way 
around.  Oh,  Lou,  I've  so  much  to  say  to  you 
when  we  reach  our  journey's  end !" 

They  arrived  at  Pelton  before  dark  and 
found  Mrs.  Tooker's  friend,  who  ran  a  small 
boarding-house  for  store  employees,  and  was 
glad  to  take  them  in  at  a  dollar  a  head.  Lou 
disappeared  after  supper,  and  although  Lou 
waited  long  for  him  on  the  little  porch,  he  did 
not  return  until  through  sheer  fatigue  she  was 
forced  to  go  to  bed. 

In  the  morning,  however,  when  they  met 
before  breakfast  in  the  lower  hall  he  jingled 
a  handful  of  silver  in  his  pocket. 

"However  did  you  git  it?"  she  demanded. 

"Garage,"  he  responded  succinctly.  "Didn't 
know  I  was  a  chauffeur,  did  you,  Lou?" 


JOURNEY'S  END  129 

A  peculiar  little  smile  hovered  for  a  mo- 
ment about  her  lips,  but  she  merely  remarked : 

"I  thought  you  wouldn't  only  take  a 
quarter " 

"For  each  job,"  he  interrupted  her.  "A 
lot  of  cars  came  in  that  needed  tinkering  with 
after  the  storm,  and  they  were  short  of  hands. 
I  made  more  than  two  dollars,  and  we'll  ride 
in  state  into  Hunnikers!" 

Lou  made  no  reply,  but  after  breakfast  she 
drew  him  out  on  the  little  porch. 

"Jini)  I — I'm  not  goin'  on." 

"What!"  he  exclaimed. 

"The  woman  that  runs  this  place,  she — she 
wants  a  girl  to  help  her,  an'  I  guess  I'll  stay." 
Lou's  tones  were  none  too  steady,  and  she  did 
not  meet  his  eyes.  "I — I  don't  believe  I'd 
like  New  York." 

"You,  a  servant  here?"  He  took  one  of  her 
hands  very  gently  in  his.  "I  didn't  mean  to 
tell  you  until  we  were  nearly  there,  and  as  it 
is,  there  is  a  lot  that  I  can't  tell  you  even  now, 
but  this  much  I  want  you  to  know.  You're 
not  going  to  work  any  more,  Lou.  You're 
going  to  a  lovely  old  lady  who  lives  in  a  big 


I3o  ANYTHING  ONCE 

house  all  by  herself,  and  there  you  are  going 
to  study  and  play  until  you  are  really  grown 
up,  and  know  as  much  as  anybody." 

She  smiled  and  shook  her  head. 

"This  is  the  sort  of  place  for  me,  Jim.  I 
wasn't  meant  for  anythin'  else,  an'  if  I  should 
live  to  be  a  hundred  I  could  never  know  as 
much  as  that  lady  at  the  circus  who  called  you 
'Jimmie  Abbott.' " 

"What — "  Jim  exploded  for  the  second 
time. 

"At  least,  she  said  you  looked  like  him,  and 
if  she  didn't  know  you  were  in  Canada " 

"Good  Lord!    What  was  she  doing  there?" 

"She  was  with  another  lady  an'  two  gentle- 
men, an'  I  guess  they  come  in  an  ottermobile," 
Lou  explained.  "They  was  in  one  the  next 
day,  anyway — the  one  that  slammed  into  the 
egg  wagon." 

She  described  in  detail  the  two  occur- 
rences, and  added  miserably: 

"I  didn't  mean  to  tell  you,  Jim,  but  as  long 
as  I'm  not  goin'  on  with  you  I  might  as  well. 
It  was  me  that  walked  on  your  note-book  back 
there  on  Mrs.  Bemis's  porch.  It  had  fallen 


JOURNEY'S  END  131 

open  on  the  floor,  an'  when  I  picked  it  up  I 
couldn't  help  seein'  the  name  that  was  written 
across  the  page.  It  was  your  own  business,  of 
course,  if  you  didn't  want  to  give  your  real 
name  to  anybody " 

"Listen,  Lou."  He  had  caught  her  other 
hand  now  and  was  holding  them  both  very 
tightly.  "You  are  going  on  with  me !  I  can't 
explain  now  about  my  name,  but  it  doesn't 
matter;  nothing  matters  except  that  you  are 
not  going  to  be  a  quitter!  You  said  that  you 
would  go  on  to  New  York  with  me,  and  you're 
going  to  keep  your  word." 

"I  know  better  now,"  she  replied  quietly. 
"It's — it's  been  a  wonderful  time,  but  I've  got 
to  work  an'  earn  my  keep  an'  try  to  learn  as 
I  go  along.  It  isn't  just  exactly  breakin'  my 
word;  I  didn't  realize " 

"Realize  what?"  he  demanded  as  she  hesi- 
tated. 

"I  thought  at  first  that  you  were  kinder  like 
me;  it  wasn't  until  I  saw  that  lady  an'  found 
you  were  a  friend  of  hers,  that  I  knew  you 
were  different." 

Her  eyes  were  still  downcast,  and  now  a 


132  ANYTHING  ONCE 

tinge  of  color  mounted  in  her  cheeks.  "I 
couldn't  bear  to  have  you  take  me  to  that 
other  lady  in  the  city  and  be  a-ashamed  of 
me " 

"Ashamed  of  you!"  he  repeated,  and  some- 
thing in  his  tone  deepened  the  color  in  her 
cheeks  into  a  crimson  tide.  "Lou,  look  at 
me!" 

Obediently  she  raised  her  eyes  for  an  in- 
stant; then  lowered  them  again  quickly,  and 
after  a  pause  she  said  in  a  very  small  voice: 

"All  right,  Jim.  I— I'll  go.  I  guess  I 
wouldn't  just  want  to  be  a — a  quitter,  after 
all." 

It  was  mid-afternoon  when  they  walked  into 
Hunnikers  and  although  they  had  come  ten 
long  miles  with  only  a  stop  for  a  picnic  lunch 
between,  they  bore  no  traces  of  fatigue. 
Rather  they  appeared  to  have  been  treading 
on  air,  and  although  Jim  had  scrupulously 
avoided  any  further  reference  to  the  future, 
there  was  a  certain  buoyant  assurance  about 
him  which  indicated  that  in  his  own  mind, 
at  least,  there  remained  no  room  for  doubt. 

He   needed    all    the   assurance   he   could 


JOURNEY'S  END  133 

muster  as,  after  ensconcing  Lou  at  the  soda 
counter  in  the  drug-store,  he  approached  the 
telephone  booth  farthest  from  her  ears  and 
closed  the  door  carefully  behind  him.  Lou 
consumed  her  soda  to  its  last  delectable  drop, 
glanced  down  anxiously  at  the  worn,  but  spot- 
less, little  silk  gown  to  see  if  she  had  spilled 
any  upon  it,  and  then  wandered  over  to  the 
showcase. 

Jim's  voice  came  to  her  indistinguishably 
once  or  twice,  but  it  was  a  full  half-hour 
before  he  emerged  from  the  booth.  He 
looked  wilted  but  triumphant,  and  he  beamed 
blissfully  as  he  came  toward  her,  mopping  his 
brow.  He  suspected  that  at  the. other  end  of 
the  wire  a  certain  gray-haired,  aristocratic  old 
lady  was  having  violent  hysterics  to  the  im- 
mediate concern  of  three  maids  and  an 
asthmatic  Pekinese,  but  it  did  not  disturb  his 
equanimity. 

"It's  all  right,"  he  announced.  "Aunt 
Emmy  expects  you;  I  didn't  tell  you,  did  I, 
that  the  lady  I'm  taking  you  to  is  my  aunt? 
No  matter.  She's  awfully  easy  if  you  get  on 
the  right  side  of  her;  I've  always  managed 


i34  ANYTHING  ONCE 

her  beautifully  ever  since  I  was  a  kid,  and 
you'll  have  her  rolling  over  and  playing  dead 
in  no  time.  Fifteen  miles  more  to  go,  Lou, 
and  we'll  be " 

"Hello,  there,  Jim."  An  oil-soaked  and 
greasy  glove  clapped  his  shoulder  and  as  he 
turned,  the  same  voice,  suddenly  altered, 
stammered :  "Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon— 

"  'Lo,  Harry!"  Jim  turned  to  greet  a  tall, 
lean  individual  more  tanned  than  himself, 
with  little,  fine,  weather  lines  about  his  eyes 
and  an  abrupt  quickness  of  gesture  which  de- 
noted his  hair-triggered  nerves.  "What  are 
you  doing  in  this  man's  town?" 

"Motoring  down  from  the  Hilton's,"  the 
other  responded.  "Pete  was  coming  with  me, 
but  at  the  last  minute  he  decided  to  stay  over 
the  week-end.  I'm  off  to  Washington  to-night 
to  see  about  my  passport;  sailing  next  Wed- 
nesday for  Labrador,  you  know." 

"Then  you're  alone?"  Jim  turned.  "Miss 
Lacey,  let  me  present  Mr.  Van  Ness;  he 
spends  his  time  trailing  all  over  the  earth  to 
find  something  to  kill.  Miss  Lacey  is  a  young 


JOURNEY'S  END  135 

friend  of  my  aunt's;  I'm  taking  her  down  to 
her  for  a  visit" 

The  explanation  sounded  somewhat  in- 
volved, but  Mr.  Van  Ness  seemed  to  grasp 
it,  and  bowed. 

"You're  motoring,  too?"  he  asked. 

"No.  I —  The  fact  is — "  Jim  stammered 
in  his  turn.  "We  were  thinking  of  taking  the 
train " 

"Why  not  let  me  take  you  both  down  in  the 
car?"  The  other  rose  to  the  occasion  with 
evident  alacrity.  "Miss  Lacy  will  like  it  bet- 
ter than  the  train,  I'm  sure,  and  I  haven't 
seen  you  for  an  age,  old  man." 

Jim  accepted  with  a  promptitude  which 
proclaimed  a  mind  relieved  of  its  final  bur- 
den, and  he  turned  to  Lou.  Mr.  Van  Ness 
had  gone  out  to  see  to  his  car,  and  they  were 
alone  at  a  far  corner  of  the  counter. 

"How  about  it,  Lou?  The  last  lap!  The 
last  fifteen  miles.  It's  been  a  long  pull  some- 
times, and  we've  had  some  rough  going,  but 
it  was  worth  it,  wasn't  it?" 

Her  eyes  all  unconsciously  gave  him  an- 
swer even  before  she  repeatedly  softly: 


136  ANYTHING  ONCE 

"  'The  last  lap.'  Oh,  Jim,  shall  I  see  you 
some  time,  at  this  lady's  house  where  you  are 
takin'  me?" 

"Every  day,"  he  promised,  adding  with 
cheerful  mendacity:  "I  dine  with  her  nearly 
all  the  time;  have  for  years.  Come  on,  Lou. 
Harry's  waving  at  us." 

Through  the  village  and  the  pleasant  roll- 
ing country  beyond;  past  huge,  wide-spread- 
ing estates  and  tiny  cottages,  and  clusters  of 
small  shops  with  the  trolley  winding  like  a 
thread  between,  the  big  maroon  car  sped, 
while  the  two  men  talked  together  of  many 
things,  and  the  girl  sat  back  in  her  corner  of 
the  roomy  tonneau  and  gave  herself  up  to 
vague  dreams. 

Then  the  cottages  gave  place  to  sporadic 
growths  of  brick  and  mortar  with  more  open 
lots  between,  but  even  these  gaps  finally 
closed,  and  Lou  found  herself  being  borne 
swiftly  through  street  after  street  of  tower- 
ing houses  out  upon  a  broad  avenue  with 
palaces  such  as  she  had  never  dreamed  of  on 
one  side,  and  on  the  other  the  seared,  droop- 
ing green  of  a  city  park  in  late  summer. 


JOURNEY'S  END  137 

It  was  still  light  when  the  big  car  swept 
into  an  exclusive  street  of  brownstone  houses 
of  an  earlier  and  still  more  exclusive  period, 
and  stopped  before  the  proudest  of  these. 

Jim  alighted  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"Come,  Lou,"  he  said.    "Journey's  end." 


CHAPTER  IX 
THE  LONG,  LONG  TRAIL 

THREE  hours  later,  in  that  same  proudly 
exclusive  house,  an  elderly  lady  with 
gray  hair  and  an  aristocratically  high,  thin 
nose  paced  the  floor  of  her  drawing-room 
with  a  vigor  which  denoted  some  strong 
emotion. 

"I  must  say,  John,  that  I  think  the  whole 
affair,  whatever  it  may  be,  is  highly  repre- 
hensible. I  supposed  James  to  be  up  in  Canada 
on  a  fishing  trip  when  he  telephoned  me  this 
morning  from  somewhere  near  town  with  a — 
a  most  extraordinary  message " 

She  broke  off,  glancing  cautiously  toward 
a  room  across  the  hall,  and  added:  "He  said 
he  had  something  to  tell  me,  and  he  would 
be  here  this  evening.  Now  you  come,  and 
you  appear  to  know  something  about  it,  but 
I  cannot  get  a  word  out  of  you!" 

138 


THE  LONG,  LONG  TRAIL      139 

"All  I  can  tell  you,  Mrs.  Abbott,  is  that  if 
Jimmie  does  come  to-night,  I've  got  to  pay 
him  a  thousand  bones — dollars,  I  mean.  It 
was  a  sort  of  a  wager,  and  that  must  be  what 
he  wants  to  tell  you  about." 

It  was  an  exceedingly  stout  young  man  with 
a  round,  cherubic  countenance  standing  by 
the  mantel  who  replied  to  her,  and  the  old 
lady  glanced  at  him  sharply. 

"A  wager?  H-m!  Possibly."  She  paused 
suddenly.  "There's  the  bell." 

A  moment  later  James  Tarrisford  Abbott, 
in  the  most  immaculate  of  dinner  clothes, 
entered  and  greeted  his  aunt,  halting  with  a 
slight  frown  as  he  encountered  the  beaming 
face  of  the  young  man  who  fell  upon  him. 

"Good  boy,  Jimmie!  You  made  it,  after 
all!" 

"With  a  few  hours  to  spare."  Jim  darted 
a  questioning  glance  at  his  aunt,  and  seemed 
relieved  at  her  emphatic  shake  of  the  head. 

"I  knew  we'd  lost  when  Mrs.  Abbott  told 
me  that  you  had  telephoned  to  her  from  just 
a  little  way  out  of  town  to-day,"  Jack  Trim- 
ble responded.  "I  ran  over  on  my  way  to  the 


140  ANYTHING  ONCE 

club  to  give  her  a  message  from  my  mother. 
Did  you  have  a  hard  time  of  it,  old  man?" 

"Hard?"  Jim  smiled.  "I've  been  a  rough- 
rider  in  a  circus " 

Mrs.  Abbott  groaned,  but  Jack  Trimble's 
eyes  opened  as  roundly  and  wide  as  his  mouth. 

"Thundering —    So  it  was  you  after  all!" 

"Me?"  Jim  demanded  with  ungrammat- 
ical  haste. 

"You  —  rough-rider  —  circus!"  Jack  ex- 
claimed. "Vera  said  the  chap  looked  like 
you,  but  it  never  occurred  to  me  that  it  could 
possibly  be!" 

"So  it  was  Vera,  was  it?"  Jim  smiled.  "I 
heard  what  she  said — I  mean,  it  was  repeated 
to  me.  You  were  one  of  that  party?" 

"Yes.  We  were  with"  the  Lentilhons  in  their 
car,  and  the  funniest  thing  happened  the  next 
'day  on  the  way  home!  Crusty  old  farmer 
wouldn't  turn  out  on  the  road,  and  Guy  Len- 
tilhon  lost  control  and  smashed  straight 
through  his  wagon !"  Jack  laughed.  "W-what 
do  you  think  it  was  loaded  with?" 

"Eggs!"  responded  Jim  crisply.  "I  hap- 
pened to  be  on  it  at  the  time,  my  boy,  and 


THE  LONG,  LONG  TRAIL      141 

your  sense  of  humor—  I  hope  you  all  got 
what  I  did!  But  I  must  explain  to  Aunt 
Emmy  here,  or  she  will  think  that  we  are 
both  quite  mad!" 

"And  I  must  be  off  to  the  club,"  Jack  an- 
nounced. "I'll  break  the  news  to  Billy  Hollfs 
that  we've  lost.  See  you  later,  and  we'll  all 
settle  up.  Good  evening,  Mrs.  Abbott." 

When  the  stout  young  man  had  taken  his 
departure,  Mrs.  Abbott  turned  to  her  nephew 
between  laughter  and  tears. 

"James,  this  is  the  maddest  of  all  mad 
things  that  you  have  ever  done!" 

"Jack  doesn't  know  anything  about  Lou?" 
Jim  demanded  anxiously. 

"Certainly  not.  He  has  only  been  here  a 
quarter  of  an  hour,  and  I  kept  her  out  of  the 
way.  But,  James,  you  cannot  be  serious! 
You  cannot  mean  to  marry  this  nameless 
waif?" 

"Stop  right  there,  Aunt  Emmy,"  he  inter- 
rupted her  firmly.  "I'm  going  to  marry,  if 
she  will  have  me,  your  ward  whom  you  have 
legally  adopted;  I  mean,  you  will  have 
adopted  her  by  the  time  she  has  grown  up. 


142  ANYTHING  ONCE 

But  I  don't  intend  to  be  nosed  out  by  any  of 
these  debutante-grabbers;  I'm  going  to  have 
everything  settled  before  her  studies  are  fin- 
ished and  you  bring  her  out.  I  saw  her  first!" 

"H-m.  We  shall  see,"  Aunt  Emmy  re- 
marked dryly,  adding:  "But  that  can  wait 
for  the  moment.  What  was  this  ridiculous 
wager  all  about,  and  how  did  you  get  into 
such  horrible  scrapes?" 

"The  whole  thing  came  out  of  an  idle  dis- 
cussion Jack  Trimble,  Billy  Hollis  and  I  had 
at  the  club  one  night  concerning  human  na- 
ture. It  drifted  into  a  debate  about  charity 
in  general  and  the  kindness  shown  toward 
strangers  by  country  folk  in  particular,  with 
myself  in  the.  minority,  of  course,"  Jim  ex- 
plained. 

"They  each  wagered  me  a  thousand  against 
my  five  hundred  that  I  couldn't  walk  from 
Buffalo  to  New  York  in  twenty-five  days  with 
only  five  dollars  in  my  pocket  to  start  with, 
and  work  my  way  home  without  begging  nor 
accepting  more  than  a  quarter  for  each  job  I 
managed  to  secure  in  any  one  time. 

"The  idea  was  to  see  how  many  of  these 


THE  LONG,  LONG  TRAIL     143 

hard-boiled  up-State  farmers  we  hear  so 
much  about  would  offer  you  the  hospitality 
reputed  to  be  extended  only  by  the  rural  popu- 
lation of  the  South  and  West,  and  how  many 
would  give  a  foot-sore  and  weary  traveler  a 
lift  upon  the  way.  There  were  other  condi- 
tions, too;  I  was  not  to  use  my  own  surname, 
not  to  go  a  foot  out  of  the  State  into  either 
Pennsylvania  or  New  Jersey.  I  was  not  to  beg, 
borrow,  or  steal,  and  for  the  occasional 
twenty-five  cents  I  might  earn  I  could  only 
purchase  food  or  actual  necessities,  not  use  it 
for  transportation,  and  I  must  not  beat  my 
way  by  stealing  rides  on  boats  or  trains  or  any 
other  conveyances." 

While  Aunt  Emmy  sat  staring  at  him  in 
speechless  amazement,  Jim  produced  his  lit- 
tle red  note-book  and  laid  it  before  her. 

"There's  the  route  I  chose  over  the  moun- 
tains, my  expense  account  for  each  day,  and 
the  names  and  addresses  of  the  people  who 
helped  to  prove  my  contention  that,  take  them 
by  and  large,  the  people  of  my  own  State  are 
as  big-hearted  as  any  in  the  Union,  and  Jack's 
money  and  Billy's  says  that  they  are! 


144  ANYTHING  ONCE 

"I'm  going  to  return  some  of  that  kindness, 
Aunt  Emmy.  There  are  two  little  boys  near 
Riverburgh  whose  father  is  dead  and  who  are 
trying  to  do  the  farm  work  of  men.  They 
are  going  to  a  good  school  this  winter,  and 
there  are  a  few  other  people  who  are  going 
to  be  surprised!  By  Jove,  I  never  realized 
what  money  was  for  until  now!  But  best  of 
all,  I  found  Lou!" 

"And  what  makes  you  so  sure  that  I  am 
going  to  adopt  her  and  educate  her  and  bring 
her  out?"  demanded  Aunt  Emmy.  "My  dear 
boy,  when  you  started  on  this  Canadian  fish- 
ing trip  of  yours  I  knew  that  something  extra- 
ordinary would  come  of  it,  but  I  did  not 
anticipate  anything  so  bizarre  as  this!  Why 
do  you  think  that  I  will  interest  myself  in 
this  child?" 

"Because  you  won't  be  able  to  help  it."  His 
face  had  sobered,  and  there  was  a  note  in  his 
voice  that  his  aunt  had  never  heard  before. 
"You  won't  be  able  to  help  loving  her  when 
you  find  out  how  courageous  she  is,  and  sin- 
cere and  true!  She  is  the  biggest-hearted, 
most  candid,  naive  little " 


THE  LONG,  LONG  TRAIL      145 

"She  is  quite  that!"  Aunt  Emmy  inter- 
rupted in  her  turn,  with  emphasis.  "How  I 
am  ever  to  hide  her  away  until  I've  had  her 
coached  not  to  drop  her  g's,  and  to  realize  that 
there  is  a  V  in  the  alphabet  I  don't  know,  but 
I'll  try.  James — I  think  there  are  distinct 
possibilities  there." 

"I  knew  it!"  Jim  cried.  "I  knew  you 
wouldn't  be  able  to  resist  her!  For  the  Lord's 
sake,  Aunt  jEmmy,  don't  let  them  spoil  her! 
She's  so  sweet  and  simple-hearted,  don't  let 
them  make  her  cynical  and  worldly-wise!  I'll 
promise  not  to  speak  to  her,  not  to  let  her 
know  how  I  feel  until  you  say  that  I  may." 

"Will  you,  James?"  There  was  a  faint 
smile  about  the  delicately  lined  lips.  "She  is 
a  child  in  many  ways,  a  blank  page  for  most 
impressions  to  be  made  upon,  but  in  other 
things  she  is  very  much  of  a  woman,  and  I 
rather  fancy  that  what  you  have  to  tell  her 
will  not  be  so  much  of  a  surprise." 

"You  old  dear!"  Jim  sprang  to  his  feet 
and  folded  his  aunt  in  his  embrace  which 
threatened  her  coiffure.  "Where  is  she?" 

"In  the  library  waiting  for  you,  Jamie!" 


146  ANYTHING  ONCE 

She  used  the  old  nursery  name,  and  caught 
his  arm.  "She  is  very  young,  but  the  heart 
sometimes  breaks  easily  then.  Don't  speak 
unless  you  yourself  are  very  sure." 

Jim  smiled,  and  throwing  back  his  head 
looked  straight  into  the  kindly  old  eyes.  Then 
without  a  word  he  turned  and  disappeared 
through  the  door. 

"And  you're  going  to  be  happy  here?"  It 
was  some  time  later  when  Jim  had  explained 
about  the  wager,  and  they  were  sitting  to- 
gether in  the  window-seat. 

"Happy?  Why,  Jim,  I  can't  believe  I'm 
awake!  I'm  going  to  study  an'  work  an'  try 
my  best  to  be  like  her.  Seems  to  me  it'll  take 
the  rest  of  my  life,  but  she  says  that  in  a  year 
or  two  there  won't  anybody  hardly  tell  the 
difference." 

"And  then,  Lou,  when  the  time  is  past? 
What  then?" 

"I  don't  know."  Her  tone  was  serenely  un- 
concerned. 

"That  trail  we've  followed  together  for  the 


THE  LONG,  LONG  TRAIL      147 

last  week  wasn't  so  bad,  was  it?"  he  asked. 
"You  were  happy  in  spite  of  the  hardships?" 

"It  was  wonderful!"  She  drew  a  deep 
breath.  "I — I  wish  we  could  start  again,  Jim, 
and  do  it  all  over  again,  every  step  of  the 
way!" 

"If  you  feel  like  that,  dear,  perhaps  some 
day  when  you  have  finished  your  studies  we 
will  start  again  on  a  longer  trail."  He  took 
one  of  the  little  toil-worn  hands  in  his.  "The 
long,  long  trail,  Lou,  only  we  will  be  to- 
gether! When  that  day  comes,  will  you  take 
the  new  road  with  me?" 

She  bowed  her  head,  and  somehow  he 
found  it  nestling  in  the  hollow  of  his  shoulder, 
and  his  arms  were  about  her.  After  a  long 
minute,  she  stirred  and  smiled. 

"Well — "  she  hesitated.  "You  knew  from 
the  very  beginning,  Jim,  that  I'd  do  anything 
once!" 


THE  END 


A     000120110    2 


